I-NRLF 


B  M  bb? 


32106017226322 


STORIES  for 
CHILDREN 


WENONAH'S   STORIES 
FOR  CHILDREN 


CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 

and 

WAKREN  PROCTOR 


THE 
HARMONY    SHOP 

PUBLISHERS    OF    GOOD    BOOKS 

BOSTON  MASS. 


Univ.  Library  it  sarito.  ^ruz2004 


COPYRIGHT,  1918, 
BY  A.  M.   DAVIS 


PS 

!2,l 

m 


EDITH  BULLEN 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Lois  AND  HAROLD 1 

II.  WENONAH 5 

III.  DUSTY    FEET 16 

IV.  BASKET    MAKING 23 

V.  THE   WAND  ....  ^    ....  28 

VI.  THE   GOLDEN   KEY 48 

VII.  THE  POLAWEE      .......  85 

VIII.  FAREWELL  111 


- 


WENONAH'S   STORIES 
FOR  CHILDREN 


CHAPTER  I. 
LOIS  AND  HABOLD. 


W"^HEN  Lois   and    Harold    Bobbins  first 
learned  that  they  were  not  going  to  the 
seashore  this  summer   they  felt  very 
much  disappointed. 

Lois  was  ten  years  old  and  Hal  was  eight. 
They  thought  there  was  no  fun  so  nice  as  wading 
in  the  salt  water  and  letting  the  foam  break 
over  their  legs.  Of  course  it  was  better  still  to 
have  Daddy  put  the  water-wings  on  them  and  let 
them  float,  and  give  them  swimming  lessons. 
They  had  not  quite  learned  to  swim  alone  yet 
without  the  water-wings,  and  this  was  to  be  the 
summer  when  they  would  surely  do  it. 

When  their  father  saw  their  disappointment 
he  tried  to  cheer  them  up. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  Lake  Michigan  looks 
as  big  as  the  ocean  ?  "  he  asked, 
it  isn't  salt,"  said  Lois. 
1 


big 
"It 


2  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

"  Has  it  any  starfish  and  crabs  in  it?  "  asked 
Hal. 

"  No,"  returned  Mr.  Bobbins,  "  but  children 
can  swim  in  it  and  wade  on  the  sandy  shore, 
and  then  there  are  sweet-smelling  pine  woods  to 
play  in,  and  your  mother  wants  to  smell  those 
pines.  Don't  you  think  you  would  like  to  see  a 
little  more  of  the  world,  instead  of  going  to  the 
same  place  every  summer?" 

Lois  shook  her  head  very  decidedly.  "No," 
she  replied,  "for  I  know  we  shall  never  have 
such  a  good  time  as  we  do  at  the  seashore." 

Her  father  smiled.  "It  is  never  a  wise  plan 
to  make  up  your  mind  not  to  have  a  good  time," 
he  said.  "  That  is  like  turning  a  bowl  upside 
down.  Nothing  can  run  into  it,  so  it  stays 
empty.  Keep  your  bowls  right  side  up,  both  of 
you,  and  you  can't  tell  what  jolly  things  may 
run  into  them.  Hal,  you  remember  those  pic- 
tures of  Indians  we  were  looking  at  last 
night?" 

Hal  at  once  became  interested.  He  always 
wanted  to  hear  all  he  could  about  Indians. 

"  Well,  don't  you  think  it  will  be  pleasant  to 
see  that  country  where  the  Indians  roamed,  and 
led  their  wild,  free  life  long  after  they  were  gone 
from  New  England?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  holding  our  bowls 
right  side  up  ?  "  asked  the  little  boy. 

"If  you  are  hopeful  and  cheerful  and  loving 


LOIS  AND  HAROLD  3 

every  morning  and  all  day,"  replied  his  father, 
"  you  are  holding  your  bowl  right  side  up." 

"  Do  you  think  if  I  do  that  in  Michigan  an 
Indian  might  fall  into  it  ?  " 

His  father  laughed.  "I  think  the  Indians 
have  cleared  out  from  there ;  but  you  will  see  the 
trails  they  used  through  the  woods,  the  places 
where  their  tents  stood,  the  water  where  their 
canoes  moved  so  silently,  the  shores  where  their 
moccasins  trod  so  swiftly,  and  breathe  the  clear, 
fine  air  through  which  their  wild  whoops  rang 
as  they  danced  around  the  camp  fire,  while  the 
smoke  curled  up  above  the  tall  trees." 

"I  say  we  go,  Lois,"  said  Hal,  his  eyes  shin- 
ing. 

"  If  the  Indians  were  there  now,"  said  his 
sister,  "  I  think  you  would  run  in  the  other  di- 
rection." 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  returned  Hal  confidently. 
"  I'd  put  on  one  of  those  great  big  war  bonnets 
and  tell  them  I  wanted  to  be  a  brave  and  live 
with  them,  and  I  think  they'd  let  me ;  but  I 
don't  think  they'd  take  you,  Lois,  for  they  like 
braves  a  great  deal  better  than  they  do  squaws." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  a  squaw,"  returned  Lois.  I 
would  be  an  Indian  princess  and  wear  a  wonder- 
ful red  mantle  with  purple  stripes  and  have 
chains  about  my  neck,  and  my  hair  braided  and 
shining,  and  beautiful  bracelets,  and  they  would 
all  bow  down  to  me- — and  you'd  have  to,  too." 


4  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

"  No,  the  chief  would  take  me  for  his  son  and 
I  should  have  a  wonderful  bow,  the  longest  in 
the  tribe,  and  shoot  my  arrows  so  straight  that 
the  other  Indians  would  all  say  '  Ugh  !  ugh  ! ' 
That's  what  they  say  when  they  like  anything, 
isn't  it,  Daddy?" 

"I  think  it  is,"  returned  Mr.  Bobbins,  and 
Harold  ran  to  get  the  Indian  book  to  show  his 
sister  how  he  would  look  shooting  arrows  before 
an  admiring  tribe,  because  he  had  found  that 
picture  last  night,  and  it  had  pleased  him  very 
much  indeed.  He  found  the  picture  of  a  princess 
for  Lois  and  she  liked  the  looks  of  the  straight- 
nosed  beauty,  because  her  own  nose  turned  up  a 
little,  and  she  thought  it  would  be  fine  to  have 
such  a  handsome  nose  and  hold  her  head  so 
proudly.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  hold  one's 
head  proudly  if  one  had  a  turn-up  nose. 

Her  father  patted  her  shoulder  as  he  passed 
her  to  leave  the  room. 

"  That's  right,"  he  said.  "  Have  a  good  time 
being  a  princess  this  summer,  instead  of  a  mer- 
maid. I'll  get  you  a  tent  if  you  want  it." 


w 


CHAPTER  II. 
WENONAH. 

"HEN  they  took  the  train  to  go  West  to 
Michigan,  Lois  and  Hal  were  very  much 
interested  in  the  sleeping  car.  They 
had  never  seen  one  before,  and  when  their  father 
tucked  them  into  two  opposite  upper  berths  that 
night,  they  hardly  wanted  to  go  to  sleep,  it  was 
such  fun  to  peek  out  at  each  other  between  the 
heavy  curtains. 

The  children's  heads  were  still  full  of  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Indians.  They  felt  they  were  on 
their  way  to  the  home  of  the  red  man,  and  Lois 
said  to  her  father : 

"What  would  the  Indians  have  thought  of 
these  little  upstairs  beds  ?  " 

Hal  was  leaning  out  into  the  aisle  from  his 
couch.  "  They'd  have  said  '  Wow  !  wow ! '  '  he 
cried. 

"Softly,"  suggested  his  father.  "Not  only 
the  Indians  would  have  been  surprised.  Think 
of  the  first  white  people  going  slowly  and  pa- 
tiently across  the  country  in  their  covered  wag- 
ons, taking  weeks  to  travel  over  the  distance  we 


6  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

cover  in  a  day.  Isn't  it  wonderful  to  live  now 
instead  of  then  ?  " 

"  But  that  was  the  most  fun/'  said  Hal.  "I've 
seen  pictures  of  the  Indians  galloping  across  the 
plain  to  attack  the  wagons,  but  the  men  had 
their  guns  and  they  saved  themselves  and  drove 
the  Indians  off." 

Mrs.  Robbins  had  the  berth  underneath  Har- 
old and  she  looked  out  between  her  curtains. 

"  You  know  the  sooner  you  go  to  sleep,  chil- 
dren, the  sooner  you  will  see  Lake  Michigan," 
she  said. 

They  had  always  found  that  their  mother 
knew  what  she  was  talking  about,  and  they  were 
eager  to  see  the  Indians'  lake,  so  they  turned 
over  in  their  little  up-stairs  beds  and  in  a  sur- 
prisingly short  few  minutes  it  was  morning. 

The  next  night  they  spent  in  another  sort  of 
little  beds,  only  this  time  they  were  on  a  large 
steamer  on  a  lake  that  stretched  away  as  far  as 
they  could  see,  just  like  the  ocean.  The  chil- 
dren could  scarcely  believe  that  those  great 
waves  were  not  salt. 

"What  would  an  Indian  in  his  little  canoe 
have  thought  to  see  a  big  mountain  of  a  ship 
like  this  coming  along  toward  him  ?  "  asked  Hal. 

His  father  shook  his  head.  "  The  canoes  kept 
near  the  shore,  I  suspect.  You  will  see  the  sort 
of  shore  tomorrow." 

When   they  arrived  at  their  destination  'the 


WENONAH  7 

children  were  pleased  to  find  a  sandy  beach, 
and  the  foaming  surf  which  looked  good  to  wade 
in. 

They  found  a  little  log  cabin  waiting  for  them 
and  it  was  nestled  in  pine  woods  on  the  side  of 
a  hill.  Their  father  was  busy  at  the  wharf  some 
time  about  the  luggage,  and  when  he  arrived  at 
the  house  he  looked  at  the  children  with  a  laugh 
in  his  eyes  but  his  lips  very  sober. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  have  just  found  out  ?" 
he  asked  when  the  men  had  brought  the  trunks 
and  gone  away. 

The  children  listened  eagerly.  They  liked 
this  forest  hill  full  of  Christmas  trees,  with 
enough  spaces  in  front  of  the  cabin  to  look 
through  to  the  blue  lake,  and  they  could  hardly 
wait  to  hear  what  their  father  had  to  tell  them. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  they  asked  to- 
gether. 

"  Have  you  been  holding  your  bowls  right  side 
up  all  the  morning  ?  Have  they,  Mother  ?  "  he 
asked,  turning  to  his  wife,  who  was  examining 
the  way  the  little  windows  opened  like  doors. 

"  Yes,  they  have  been  very  good  children," 
she  returned,  with  her  attention  on  the  hinges 
and  fastenings. 

"  Very  well,  then.  I  must  tell  you  that  there 
is  an  Indian  camp  here." 

The  eyes  of  both  Lois  and  Harold  became 
very  large.  Their  father  looked  serious. 


8  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

"Are  we  going  to  stay?"  asked  Hal  in  a 
hushed  voice. 

"  Is  it  safe  ?  "  asked  Lois  in  the  same  breath. 

"I  think  we  can  risk  it,"  said  Mr.  Bobbins. 

Hal  shook  his  head.  "  We'd  better  each  have 
a  gun  then/'  he  said,  "  because  we  must  sleep 
some  of  the  time." 

His  father  laughed  and  gave  both  the  children 
a  hug.  "  You  keep  your  bowls  right  side  up  and 
you  won't  need  any  guns,"  he  said.  "  The  Indi- 
ans are  like  other  people  in  that.  They  will  give 
you  the  same  sort  of  treatment  you  give  them." 

"  See  here,  dear,  will  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bobbins 
to  her  husband.  "  What  is  the  matter  with  this 
catch?" 

"They  had  better  make  the  windows  safe," 
said  Hal  to  Lois  in  a  low  tone.  His  eyes  were 
still  very  large.  "  Come  out  and  see  if  we  can 
see  any  smoke." 

The  children  went  outside  and  peered  about 
among  the  trees. 

"  I  think  Daddy  seems  very  queer  and  care- 
less about  this,  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Lois.  "  They 
must  be  tame  Indians." 

"  They  may  pretend  to  be,"  said  Hal,  "  but  I 
don't  see  how  he  can  trust  them  in  the  night 
time." 

"  See  here,  children,"  called  their  mother  from 
the  door,  "  don't  stray  away  until  I  get  your  play 
clothes  out  of  the  trunk." 


WENONAH  9 

Lois  and  Hal  went  inside  and  quite  silently 
changed  their  traveling  clothes  for  tougher  gar- 
ments, then  they  again  went  out  doors. 

Their  parents  had  bought  the  children  wrist 
watches  in  leather  straps  before  coming  here,  be- 
cause they  knew  it  was  a  wild  country  and  it 
was  so  hard  for  them  to  remember  the  time  of 
day.  The  father  and  mother  were  very  busy 
now  unpacking  and  settling  the  little  home,  so 
they  merely  reminded  Lois  and  Hal  to  remem- 
ber to  be  at  home  by  six  o'clock. 

"  Did  you  notice  how  near  the  hotel  is  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Bobbins,  "  Come  out  here."  He 
showed  them  what  they  had  not  observed  :  a 
glimpse  between  the  thick  trees  of  a  large  spread- 
ing building,  built  of  logs  just  like  their  own  lit- 
tle house. 

"  So  if  you  get  lost  just  ask  somebody  to  di- 
rect you  to  the  hotel.  Understand  ?  " 

The  children  nodded  and  he  went  back  to  his 
work  of  hanging  a  hammock  among  the  trees. 
Mrs.  Bobbins  had  come  West  in  need  of  rest,  and 
her  husband  intended  her  to  live  in  this  ham- 
mock, as  much  as  possible. 

"  I  think  Daddy  acts  very  queer,"  said  Lois  as 
the  two  moved  slowly  away  on  the  narrow  for- 
est path. 

"  This  looks  to  me  like  an  Indian  trail,"  said 
Hal  quite  gloomily. 

"  That  is  what  it  is,  of  course,"  replied  Lois. 


10  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  The  idea  of  Daddy  saying  so  coolly  if  we  get 
lost  to  ask  for  the  hotel  —  and  these  woods  full 
of  Indians ! " 

"  And  we  begged  to  go  to  the  seashore,  too/' 
responded  Hal. 

They  held  each  other  by  the  hand  and  moved 
slowly.  The  piney  air  about  them  was  delicious, 
and  every  few  steps  they  would  get  another 
glimpse  of  the  light  blue  of  the  dancing  waves. 

"I  thought  you  wanted  to  see  the  Indians 
so  much,  Hal,  and  be  a  '  brave ' "  said  Lois  at 
last. 

He  hesitated  a  little,  but  he  knew  that  being 
a  boy  he  ought  to  protect  his  sister,  and  he  felt 
that  she  was  being  disappointed  in  him. 

"  Of  course,"  he  began,  "  if  I  had  a  war-bon- 
net and  a  bow  and  arrows  —  but  all  I  have  to 
slap  'em  with  is  a  wrist  watch." 

Lois  started  to  laugh  at  this,  but  her  laugh 
was  quickly  hushed  and  she  and  Hal  stopped 
suddenly  and  clung  more  tightly  together,  for 
among  the  trees  a  dash  of  scarlet  was  visible. 
It  was  moving  swiftly  and  came  toward  them. 

They  suddenly  saw  an  Indian  maiden  on 
whom  they  gazed  with  all  their  eyes.  She  wore 
the  vivid  scarlet  mantle  with  purple  stripes  that 
Lois  had  longed  for,  and  a  petticoat  embroidered 
with  bright  beads.  Her  long,  shining  braids 
hung  over  her  shoulders.  Her  arms  bore  heavy 
bracelets  and  her  silent  feet  were  shod  with  moo- 


WENONAH  11 

casins.  She  wore  a  brilliant  hued  bodice  and  a 
narrow  gold  band  passed  across  her  forehead. 

To  the  children  she  looked  all  that  was  stately 
and  beautiful  and  commanding  as  she  moved, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  through  the  forest.  They 
clutched  each  other,  with  beating  hearts. 

She  caught  sight  of  them,  and  turned  and  they 
saw  that  she  carried  on  her  arm  a  large  light 
basket,  containing  a  few  smaller  ones  made  of 
sweet  grass. 

"  You  like  to  buy  some  baskets  ?  "  she  asked, 
and  wonder  of  wonders  she  smiled  upon  them, 
and  drew  nearer. 

Lois  found  her  voice  after  a  minute.  It  had 
seemed  to  be  buried  somewhere  deep  down,  per- 
haps in  her  stomach  —  it  felt  queer. 

"  We  haven't  any  money,"  she  said,  hoping 
the  announcement  would  not  bring  down  the 
wrath  of  the  beautiful  being. 

But  the  stranger  only  nodded  pleasantly. 

"  The  little  boy  would  like  some  bow  and  ar- 
rows, perhaps?"  She  fixed  a  bright  gaze  on 
Hal,  whose  knees  were  trying  not  to  wobble. 

"  Yes,  I  would  —  "  he  said  rather  breathlessly, 
"  some  day — when — when  I  have  some  money." 

"You  come,  see  what  we  have,"  said  the 
maiden,  and  the  children,  still  clasping  hands, 
followed  her  stately  tread. 

They  exchanged  a  look.  She  was  doubtless 
luring  them  to  the  camp  where  the  braves  were 


12  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

perhaps  at  the  present  moment  doing  a  war  dance 
about  a  fire.  If  they  turned  back,  however,  and 
refused,  she  might  be  angry ;  so  they  followed 
on  and  determined  to  be  so  polite  that  no  one, 
not  even  Indians,  could  be  offended  with  them. 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  the  canvas  of  a 
few  tents  came  into  view.  A  wigwam  stood  in 
the  center  of  the  group  and  half  a  dozen  In- 
dians in  native  dress  and  shining  hair  that  hung 
on  their  shoulders  were  moving  about. 

The  Indian  maiden  turned  and  gave  the  chil- 
dren another  smile,  and  the  indifference  of  the 
other  Indian  faces  soothed  their  timidity.  She 
led  them  to  the  wigwam  which  proved  to  be  a 
show-room  for  the  wares  they  had  to  sell. 
There  were  baskets  of  every  shape  and  size,  lit- 
tle birch  bark  canoes,  bows  and  arrows,  napkin 
rings  and  many  other  trinkets  made  of  birch 
bark  or  sweet  grass. 

"I  shall  tell  my  father  and  mother  about 
these,"  said  Lois,  "  I'm  sure  they  will  let  us  have 


some." 


"  Have  you  any  war  bonnets  ?  "  asked  Hal. 

"  Yes,  we  have,  but  my  people  keep  them  for 
festival  days,"  replied  the  Indian  girl. 

She  spoke  such  good  Engish  and  the  other  In- 
dians, men  and  women,  took  so  little  notice  of 
the  children  that  they  both  decided  in  their  own 
minds  that  there  would  not  be  any  danger,  even 
in  the  night. 


WENONAH  13 

Their  guide,  noticing  the  eagerness  with  which 
they  gazed  at  her,  invited  them  to  her  own  tent. 

"We  never  saw  any  Indians  before,"  said 
Hal.  "  We  live  in  Boston." 

"Well,  it  is  pleasant  to  travel,"  replied  the 
girl,  and  she  led  them  to  one  of  the  tents  and  took 
them  inside.  There  was  a  bed  and  a  wash-stand 
and  two  chairs  in  it,  but  above  all  there  was  a 
delicious  odor  which  they  inhaled  as  if  they 
could  not  get  enough  of  it. 

"  That  is  the  dried  sweet  grass,"  said  the 
maiden.  "  I  make  the  baskets  with  that."  She 
dropped  the  large  light  basket  off  her  arm.  "  I 
take  them  to  the  hotel  every  afternoon,  after  the 
ladies  take  their  naps,"  she  smiled  again  at  the 
children.  "  They  feel  very  bright  and  happy 
then,  and  they  buy  my  baskets.  See  how  few  I 
have  brought  back  ?  Then  in  the  mornings  I 
work." 

"  0,  may  we  see  you  do  it  sometime  ?  " 

"Certainly  you  may.  I  am  going  to  finish 
one  now.  There  is  one  chair  for  the  little  girl 
and  for  the  boy  there  is  the  floor."  She  gave 
Hal  one  of  her  bright  smiles  as  she  said  it,  and 
he  dropped  down,  watching  the  strange,  dark 
being  with  admiring  eyes.  Among  the  men  In- 
dians he  had  not  seen  one  who  fulfilled  his  idea 
of  a  "Brave  "  but  this  maid  was  more  beautiful 
than  any  Indian  Princess  he  had  imagined. 

"  Now  let  us  know  all  of  our  names,"  said  the 


14  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

maiden  as  she  seated  herself  and  pulled  toward 
her  the  unfinished  basket,  upon  which  she  began 
to  weave. 

"  My  name  is  Harold,  but  they  call  me  Hal, 
because  my  father's  name  is  Harold,  and  my 
mother  likes  to  know  us  apart ;  and  my  sister's 
name  is  Lois.  Please  tell  us  yours." 

The  Indian  girl  smiled  at  her  work.  "My 
name  is  Wenonah.  I  went  to  a  great  school 
down  in  Virginia  and  there  a  teacher  showed  me 
the  poem  of  Hiawatha.  I  have  the  name  of  his 
beautiful  mother." 

"I  like  it,"  said  Hal  promptly. 

"So  do  I,"  added  Lois. 

"  Then  we  all  know  each  other  now,"  said  the 
girl.  "  Quick,  that  ship  going  by  !  Isn't  it  a 
picture  ?  " 

They  looked  through  the  avenue  of  pines  that 
led  to  the  beach  and  were  just  in  time  to  see  the 
white  sails  of  a  yacht  flying  like  a  great  white 
bird  past  the  opening. 

"  We  have  to  taste  of  that  water  to  see  if  it 
truly  isn't  salt,"  said  Lois. 

"  Can  you  swim?  "  asked  her  new  friend. 

"  We  are  learning  to." 

"Ah,  that  is  good  for  the  mothers."  Weno- 
nah gave  Hal  a  mischievous  nod.  "  Little  boys 
sometimes  do  not  like  their  bath.  It  is  too  much 
trouble." 

Lois  laughed.     "How  did  you  guess  that?" 


WENONAH  15 

she  asked.  "  We  go  barefooted  in  summer  and 
at  night  Hal  always  makes  a  fuss  about  washing 
his  dusty  feet." 

Hal  looked  rather  shamefacedly  down  at  the 
shoes  he  had  not  yet  discarded  for  the  season. 

"I  knew  a  boy  once  who  felt  that  way. 
Something  strange  happened  to  him." 

The  children  pricked  up  their  ears. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  us  about  it?  "  asked 
Lois,  if  there  were  any  stories  under  that  gold 
band  that  went  around  Wenonah's  forehead,  they 
were  eager  to  have  them. 

"  Was  he  an  Indian  ?  "  asked  Hal. 

"  No,  he  was  a  white  boy.  I'll  tell  you  about 
him." 


CHAPTER  III. 

DUSTY   FEET. 

TOU  never  saw  a  kinder,  sweeter  woman 
than  Joe's  mother.  His  name  was  Joseph 
but  of  course  nobody  called  him  that. 
He  was  a  jolly,  happy  boy  with  lots  of  freckles 
on  his  nose,  and  one  reason  he  was  so  happy, 
though  he  never  stopped  to  think  about  that, 
was  that  he  had  such  a  kind  mother. 

He  lived  on  a  farm,  and  his  short  trousers 
were  held  on  by  one  suspender,  as  barefooted,  he 
ran  about  from  morning  until  night.  Plenty  of 
other  boys  came  to  play  with  him  and  one  reason 
was  that  the  kind  mother  nearly  always  had 
time,  with  all  her  work,  to  stop  and  spread  a 
thick  slice  of  bread  and  butter  for  a  boy  to  eat. 

"Dear  little  fellows,  they're  growing,"  she 
Would  say  to  herself,  whenever  Joe  asked. 

He  and  the  other  boys  went  fishing  in  the 
creek  and  played  they  were  Indians  in  the  woods. 
They  climbed  on  the  barn  roof ;  they  ran  swift 
express  trains,  and  when  Joe  had  his  chores  to 
do  there  was  usually  some  boy  ready  to  help  him 
do  them. 

16 


DUSTY  FEET  17 

He  had  to  feed  the  pigs,  squealing  under  the 
barn,  and  at  evening  go  to  fetch  the  cows.  After 
such  an  active  day  it  is  no  wonder  that  after 
supper  every  night  Joe  soon  became  drowsy. 

While  his  mother  washed  the  supper  dishes  he 
would  get  into  a  big  calico  covered  arm  chair, 
and  those  legs  that  had  ,run  about  so  busily  all 
day  long  would  feel  as  if  they  couldn't  move, 
and  his  eyes  would  blink  and  stare,  and  close, 
before  he  knew  it. 

When  her  work  was  done  his  mother  would 
say,  ".Come,  Joe,  come  now.  It  is  time  to  wash 
your  feet  and  get  ready  for  bed." 

And  Joe  would  pull  his  eyes  open  and  stretch, 
and  say,  "0,  Ma,  why  do  I  have  to  wash  my 
feet  every  night  ?  " 

Day  after  day  those  nimble  feet  of  Joe's 
stepped  into  all  sorts  of  places  all  over  the  farm, 
and  night  after  night  he  argued  for  a  long  time 
before  he  would  wash  them. 

One  evening  when  his  mother  had  put  all  her 
clean  dishes  away  she  went  over  to  the  arm 
chair  and  Joe  was  so  sound  asleep  that  her  gen- 
tle shaking  did  not  wake  him ;  so  she  just  smiled 
down  on  him  in  that  very  nice  way  mothers  have 
and  decided  to  have  pity  on  the  child. 

She  threw  a  large  apron  over  him  and  blowing 
out  the  lamp,  left  him  to  spend  the  night  in  the 
big,  soft  old  chair. 

Very  early  in  the  morning  Joe  woke  up, 


18  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

cramped  in  his  small  quarters,  and  rather  cold ; 
so  he  crept  upstairs  and  crawled  into  bed  with- 
out disturbing  anyone,  and  without  washing  his 
feet. 

When  morning  came  and  the  family  had  eaten 
breakfast,  Joe's  busy  mother  said  nothing  about 
last  evening,  and  he  rushed  out  to  play  without 
worrying  his  head  about  yesterday's  dust;  for 
this  was  vacation  time  and  Joe  knew  that  the 
end  of  it  would  soon  come,  and  back  to  school  he 
must  go.  So  he  and  his  playmates  worked  as 
hard  as  ever,  playing  ball,  and  climbing  trees 
and  leap  frogging  over  each  others'  backs,  and 
eating  any  quantity  of  bread  and  butter. 

Of  course  that  night  he  was  again  very  drowsy 
and  when  his  mother  called  him  to  get  ready  for 
bed,  he  remembered  the  evening  before  and  how 
he  had  slept  half  the  night  under  the  old  apron, 
and  how  he  had  not  washed  his  feet.  He  be- 
came quite  wide  awake  thinking  about  it,  and 
he  began  to  picture  a  heaven  where  boys  whose 
legs  were  too  heavy  to  move  at  night  would 
never  hear  anyone  remind  them  to  scrub  the 
dust  off  their  ten  toes.  He  began  to  try  to 
think  of  a  way  to  make  such  a  heaven ;  and  a 
plan  came  into  his  head. 

So  while  his  mother  was  finishing  the  dishes 
and  calling  him  to  go,  he  staggered  out  of  his 
chair,  and  seeming  to  be  half  asleep  and  half 
awake  stumbled  into  the  front  room  where  the 


DUSTY  FEET  19 

sofa  was,  and  with  a  groan  of  fatigue  he  fell 
upon  its  soft  old  springs  and  stretched  himself 
out. 

He  thought  he  knew  what  would  happen,  and 
sure  enough  it  really  did.  The  kind  mother, 
coming  in  later  found  him  enjoying  such  a  deep, 
peaceful  sleep  that  she  hadn't  the  heart  to  waken 
the  boy  and  make  him  go  and  put  his  feet  into 
cold  water.  She  shivered  a  little  herself,  just  to 
think  of  it.  So  she  covered  him  up  carefully 
with  a  shawl  and  left  him. 

A  very  strange  thing  happened  then.  Joe 
found  that  he  was  not  lying  on  the  sofa  at  all, 
but  on  a  bench  in  a  beautiful  garden.  Who  had 
such  a  garden  in  their  neighborhood  ?  He  knew 
he  had  never  seen  it  before  and  he  gazed  about 
at  the  nodding  lilies  and  the  roses  that  climbed 
high  on  a  lattice,  just  as  they  did  in  a  picture 
book  he  had.  There  were  paths  leading  about 
this  garden  and  small  blue  flowers  grew  thickly 
along  their  edges. 

Joe  was  wonderfully  comfortable  and  happy  in 
the  midst  of  so  much  beauty,  and  he  lay  there 
looking  at  the  bees  seeking  for  honey  in  the 
flower  cups,  and  the  butterflies  that  played  to- 
gether in  the  air,  and  alighted  on  the  flowers, 
sipping  the  dew,  while  they  opened  and  closed 
their  golden  wings. 

Suddenly  there  came  into  sight  a  lovely  little 
girl,  strolling  along  the  path  toward  him.  Joe 


20  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

was  so  surprised  and  delighted  to  see  her  that  he 
sat  right  up.  He  remembered  her  well.  She 
was  the  girl  whom  he  had  seen  ride,  standing  on 
a  milk  white  horse  in  the  circus  a  few  weeks  ago. 
0  that  proud  horse,  with  his  fine  arched  neck, 
and  0,  the  wonderful  girl  in  the  white,  lacy 
dress,  and  the  gold  star  on  her  forehead !  How 
fearlessly  she  had  smiled.  To  think  that  she 
should  be  here ! 

She  was  smiling  now  at  the  flowers  as  she 
strolled  along,  and  butterflies  circled  around  that 
golden  star  as  it  gleamed  in  -the  sunlight.  Her 
lacy  dress  blew  in  the  summer  breeze,  just  as  it 
had  in  her  flight  on  the  milk  white  horse. 

Joe  sat  up  and  gazed  and  gazed.  He  could 
hardly  wait  to  tell  her  how  glad  he  was  she  had 
come,  and  ask  her  if  he  might  ride  once  on  her 
wonderful  horse.  He  was  springing  up  to  go  to 
meet  her,  when  a  fairy  suddenly  appeared  from 
the  lily-bell  near  him.  The  fairy  had  wings 
brighter  than  the  butterflies,  and  a  blue-bell  was 
perched  on  his  saucy  head. 

At  least  he  seemed  saucy  to  Joe,  for  he  waved 
him  back  with  the  wand  in  his  tiny  hand,  with 
as  much  an  air  of  authority  as  if  he  had  been  six 
feet  tall. 

"  But  I  want  to  speak  to  her,"  said  Joe,  "  I 
want  to  play  with  her." 

The  little  girl  had  come  quite  near  now,  and 
she  heard  this.  Her  smiling  face  grew  very 


DUSTY  FEET  21 

sober  as  she  looked  at  him,  and  she  shook  her 
head. 

"  No,  I  must  never  play  with  boys  with  dusty 
feet,"  she  said,  and  lifting  the  gold  star  on  her 
forehead  very  high,  she  passed  down  another 
flowery  path  and  disappeared. 

The  fairy  smiled  (he  looked  mischievous)  and 
waved  his  wand.  In  a  second,  Joe  was  standing 
in  the  middle  of  a  big  puddle  of  sticky  mud. 
His  face  grew  red  with  shame  and  disappoint- 
ment and  he  felt  tears  pressing  hard  at  the  back 
of  his  eyes,  but  of  course  he  could  not  be  a  cry 
baby. 

The  mud  seemed  to  get  tangled  with  strings 
and  they  got  in  between  his  toes  when  he  tried 
to  pull  his  feet  out,  and  then  he  saw  that  it  was 
his  mother's  apron  that  was  all  smeared  with 
mud,  and  turning  around  in  distress  he  saw  her 
shawl ;  the  very  one  she  had  thrown  over  him 
on  the  sofa.  He  tried  to  get  free  of  the  black 
stickiness  and  step  over  on  to  the  shawl  when 
his  toes  trod  on  something  that  felt  like  an  old 
shoe,  and  how  he  did  wish  for  his  shoes  and 
stockings ! 

Suddenly  he  felt  cold  and  shivered.  The  mud 
turned  into  snow,  and  his  feet  were  so  cold  that 
he  tried  to  wriggle  his  toes  and  found  he 
couldn't.  They  were  numb.  He  couldn't  feel 
that  he  had  any  toes ;  and  just  then  the  beauti- 
ful little  girl  came  walking  slowly  back,  and  0, 


22  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

how  he  felt,  standing  there,  splashed  with  the 
mud  he  had  spattered  all  over  himself  trying  to 
get  out  of  the  puddle. 

He  must  not  cry,  for  that  would  be  worse  than 
being  dirty.  She  might  think  he  was  in  the  dirt 
by  accident,  but  no  accident  would  excuse  a  boy 
for  crying. 

She  stood  there,  looking  at  him,  not  scornfully 
as  before,  but  with  a  pitying,  kindly  look,  and 
all  at  once  she  began  to  float  up  from  the  ground. 

She  poised,  suspended  in  the  air,  leaning  over 
him  with  such  sweet  sadness  in  her  gentle  eyes 
that  he  became  frightened  and  awoke  with  a 
start. 

It  was  morning  and  his  mother  was  gazing 
down  on  him  with  her  kind  smile. 

He  looked  up  sheepishly  and  blinked  his  eyes. 
"  Mother  dear,"  he  said,  and  he  reached  up  for 
her  hand,  "  I  guess  I  forgot  to  wash  my  feet." 


CHAPTER  IV. 
BASKET  MAKING. 

WHEN  the   children   reached  home  they 
were  much  excited. 

"  We've  found  a  gentle  Indian,"  cried 
Hal. 

"  And  she's  a  princess  and  her  name  is  Weno- 
nah,"  added  Lois. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  she  was  a  princess?  "  asked 
their  mother. 

"  No,  but  she  surely  is,"  said  Lois  fervently. 
"  She  has  a  princess's  clothes  and  a  gold  crown ; 
and  the  most  wonderful  thing  is  I  wished  for 
her.  I  could  see  the  sky  from  my  bed  last  night 
and  when  I  saw  the  first  star  I  wished  the  way 
I  always  do : 

"  Starlight,  Star  bright. 
First  star  I've  seen  tonight, 
Wish  you  may,  wish  you  might 
Give  me  the  wish  I  wish  tonight." 

and  I  wished  for  an  Indian  princess." 

"  Yes,  she  did,  because  she  told  me  so  coming 

home,"  said  Hal  earnestly. 

"  And  to  think  she  was  waiting  here  and  she 

23 


24  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

can  talk  English  as  well  as  you  do,"  said  Lois. 
"  She  makes  baskets  and  sells  them  at  the  hotel." 

And  there  wasn't  any  tomahawk  in  her  tent, 
because  I  looked,"  said  Hal,  "  and  the  other  In- 
dians all  looked  so  tame,  I  don't  believe  they 
have  any,  either." 

"  She  told  us  a  story,"  said  Lois.  She  looked 
at  her  brother  and  laughed,  "  It  was  about  a 
boy  who  didn't  like  to  wash  his  feet." 

"I  don't  care,"  returned  Hal,  growing  red, 
**  Perhaps  she  can  tell  another  story  about  a  girl 
who  doesn't  like  to  make  beds." 

"  A  story  already,"  said  their  father,  "Well, 
I  think  those  bowls  of  yours  must  have  been 
right  side  up.  We  must  go  and  visit  her  .High- 
ness and  buy  a  basket," 

"  I'm  going  to  help  her  carry  them  to  the  ho- 
tel," said  Hal  who  had  very  much  liked  the  In- 
dian girl  with  the  flashing  smile,  and  the  clothes 
like  the  bright  plumage  of  a  bird. 

"  I  shall  go,  too,"  said  Lois. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bobbins  looked  at  one  another 
and  smiled.  The  children's  earnestness  and  their 
red  cheeks  showed  them  that  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  make  a  visit  to  the  dusky  maiden  with 
whom  Lois  and  Hal  were  wishing  to  spend  so 
much  time. 

So  the  next  day  the  children,  escorted  by  their 
parents,  went  to  the  camp  and  the  Indians  were 
very  much  pleased  to  see  them,  because  they 


BASKET  MAKING  25 

called  for  Wenonah.  and  she  took  them  to  the  wig- 
wam, where  they  bought  a  number  of  the  pretty 
wares  for  the  children  and  themselves. 

Then  they  went  back  to  Wenonah' s  tent  with 
her,  and  watched  her  weave  the  sweet  grass  into 
the  basket  she  was  making.  She  told  them  of 
the  school  she  had  attended,  and  how  she  had 
come  home  and  helped  her  people  to  better  ways 
of  living.  She  said  they  made  a  great  store  of 
their  goods  during  the  winter,  then  in  summer 
went  to  the  resorts  and  sold  them.  The  weav- 
ing they  did  here  did  not  amount  to  much,  ex- 
cept to  show  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  how  the 
baskets  were  made,  and  to  give  them  lessons 
when  they  wished. 

"  How  would  you  children  like  to  take  lessons 
in  basket  making  ?  "  asked  their  father. 

Lois  and  Hal  eagerly  replied  that  they  would 
like  it  very  much. 

"  They  could  not  manage  the  fine  work  at 
first,"  said  Wenonah.  "I  have  the  coarser  raf- 
fia for  them." 

So  that  is  how  the  children  came  to  take  les- 
sons in  basket  making.  Their  parents  were  not 
willing  that  they  should  go  to  the  hotel  to  help 
sell  the  pretty  things,  so  while  Wenonah  was 
busy  there,  they '  played  on  the  beach  or  in  the 
woods  and  sometimes  went  sailing  with  their  fa- 
ther. 

If  Wenonah  had  been  a  white  maiden  they 


26  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

would  have  enjoyed  being  with  her,  for  she  was 
gentle  and  patient  and  liked  fun  too,  but  with 
her  dark  features,  shining  braids  of  hair,  and  si- 
lent moocasins,  and  the  stately  grace  with  which 
she  moved  about  through  the  woods,  they 
thought  her  the  most  charming  person  they  had 
ever  known. 

Of  course,  sitting  in  the  door  of  Wenonah's 
tent  with  the  billows  of  the  lake  glinting  among 
the  trees  and  the  fresh  breeze  blowing,  was  a 
very  pleasant  way  to  learn  basket  making ;  and 
their  clumsy  little  hands  were  kindly  guided  by 
the  slender,  dark,  clever  fingers  of  their  teacher. 

Of  course  when  the  children  were  well  started 
on  their  work  it  occurred  to  them  that  Wenonah 
might  tell  them  another  story,  and  Lois,  feeling 
so  well  acquainted  with  her  now,  told  her  how 
she  had  wished  on  the  first  star  that  night  on 
the  steamer,  and  the  Indian  girl  thought  the 
wishing  verse  amusing,  so  Lois  taught  it  to  her, 
proud  to  think  that  she  could  teach  the  princess 
something. 

"  I  shall  wish  every  night  after  this,"  said 
Wenonah.  "  I  wonder  if  that  might  be  the  rea- 
son there  is  so  often  a  star  on  the  end  of  a 
fairy's  wand." 

"  Is  there  one  ? "  asked  both  the  children  at 
once. 

"  Yes,  usually.  You  see,  the  wand  gives  them 
everything  they  want,  and  perhaps  it  is  the  star 


BASKET  MAKING  27 

that  does  it.  I  don't  know,  though/'  said  We- 
nonah,  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  sweet  grass 
she  was  weaving  and  which  made  the  tent  smell 
like  a  field  of  new-mown  hay.  "The  wand 
that  Peter  found  had  no  star  on  it." 

"What  Peter?"  asked  Hal. 

"  What  wand  ?  "  asked  Lois. ' 

So,  of  course,  Wenonah,  being  very  polite  and 
obliging,  began  to  tell  them  about  it. 


w 


CHAPTER   Y. 
THE    WAND. 

"HAT  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  to  be  able  to 
say  of  a  boy,  He  is  the  strongest  boy  in 
the  village  —  or  the  most  honest  boy  in 
the  village  —  or  the  kindest  boy  in  the  village  — 
or,  nicest  of  all, —  He  is  the  best  boy  in  the  vil- 
lage ;  and  what  a  sad  thing  it  is  to  say  of  a  boy, 
He  is  the  worst  boy  in  the  village ;  and  that  is 
what  everybody  said  of  Peter. 

He  was  a  tease  and  a  bully  —  and  a  bully  is 
always  a  coward,  you  know.  The  little  girls  at 
school  avoided  him.  They  never  knew  what 
minute  he  would  pull  their  hair,  or  stick  out  his 
foot  suddenly  and  trip  them  up. 

The  animals  feared  him,  and  the  meanest 
thing  a  boy  can  do,  even  worse  than  pulling  a 
little  girl's  hair,  is  to  be  unkind  to  animals,  or 
even  to  tease  them.  No  boy  who  likes  to  play 
fair  will  do  it ;  for  animals  cannot  speak,  or  de- 
fend themselves. 

Peter's  dog  wanted  to  love  him,  as  dogs  al- 
ways do,  but  he  couldn't  trust  his  master. 
When  they  went  out  together,  the  dog,  whose 
name  was  Pat,  followed  at  a  little  distance.  He 

28 


THE   WAND  29 

wanted  to  go  with  Peter,  but  lie  was  afraid  of 
the  heavy  shoe  that  could  suddenly  fly  out  and 
hurt  him. 

So  Peter  lost  all  the  best  part  of  life  by  being 
sulky  and  dishonest  and  spending  his  time  think- 
ing up  mischievous  things  to  do.  There  was 
another  boy  in  the  village  where  Peter  lived 
whom  he  especially  disliked.  This  boy's  name 
was  Lawrence,  and  the  reason  Peter  hated  him 
was  that  although  smaller  than  himself,  Law- 
rence had  once  or  twice  jumped  to  the  defence 
of  some  girl  or  boy  whom  Peter  was  hurting, 
and  driven  the  bigger  boy  off  with  his  fists. 

Peter  was  scowling  and  thinking  about  Law- 
rence one  day  as  he  was  trudging  along  the 
dusty  road,  Pat  following  at  a  safe  distance. 
The  dog  was  hoping  that  pretty  soon  his  master 
wouldn't  look  so  cross  and  that  he  would  dare  to 
go  closer.  Once  in  a  while  when  Peter  felt  good- 
natured  he  used  to  throw  sticks  for  Pat  to  run 
after  and  bring  back,  and  Pat  loved  that. 

Well,  Peter  trudged  along  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  but  not  whistling  as  happy  boys  do. 
His  eyes  were  on  the  dusty  road  as  he  thought 
about  Lawrence  and  wished  he  could  beat  him. 
He  had  once  found  a  penny  as  he  walked  along 
this  road  and  he  was  thinking  about  that,  too, 
and  wishing  he  could  find  another.  He  began 
to  wonder  what  he  would  buy  with  it  if  he  could 
find  one. 


30  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

All  at  once  he  noticed  a  shining  little  object 
lying  by  the  roadside.  He  went  toward  it  and 
Pat  noticed  his  movement  and  saw  as  quickly  as 
Peter  did  that  the  shining  object  was  a  little 
stick.  The  dog's  ears  and  tail  went  up  gladly. 
If  Peter  was  going  to  pick  up  a  stick,  that  meant 
that  he  would  throw  it  and  they  would  have  a 
game.  Pat  ran  in  front  of  Peter  and  got  in  his 
way  and  the  impatient  boy  gave  him  a  kick. 

Down  went  Pat's  ears  and  tail,  and  crying  out, 
he  ran  away  to  a  safe  distance,  while  Peter 
stooped  to  the  strange,  small,  shining  object. 
It  was  very  smooth  and  looked  like  silver.  It 
was  probably  more  valuable  than  a  penny,  and 
the  boy  picked  it  up.  He  would  hide  it  and 
wait  to  see  if  he  could  hear  anything  of  the 
owner,  and  then  make  him  pay  a  good  price  for 
it. 

Peter's  eyes  shone  with  satisfaction  at  this 
thought,  and  he  picked  up"]  the  silver  stick.  It 
was  different  from  anything  he  had  ever  seen 
and  he  wondered  what  its  owner  used  it  for. 

He  had  no  sooner  grasped  it  and  stood  up 
than  he  began  to  sail  gently  up  into  the  air. 
He  was  so  astonished  that  his  eyes  nearly  fell 
out;  but  it  was  pleasant,  too,  to  be  wafted 
gently  up  and  up  as  if  he  were  a  fluff  of  thistle- 
down instead  of  a  clumsy  country  boy  with  the 
heavy  shoes  that  poor  Pat  feared. 

Little  by  little  the  road  and  trees  and  houses 


THE  WAND  Si 

and  barns  and  broad  fields  below  him  faded  out 
of  sight.  "  How  far  can  I  go  ? "  wondered 
Peter,  and  he  grasped  the  satin-smooth  little 
stick  closer  than  ever.  He  felt  sure  that  if  he 
dropped  it  he  would  go  to  the  earth  with  a 
bump  that  would  give  him  a  severe  headache; 
for  surely  his  rise  in  the  world  must  have  had 
something  to  do  with  this  shining  thing  which 
gleamed  now  between  his  brown,  and  not  very- 
clean,  fingers. 

He  looked  at  it  as  he  sailed,  and  suddenly 
there  came  to  him  a  remembrance  of  stories  he 
had  heard  in  the  village  about  fairies  —  fairies 
with  wands.  Yes,  every  fairy  had  a  wand,  and 
by  waving  this  wand  he  could  go  everywhere 
and  get  everything  he  wanted. 

"I  wonder  if  I'm  a  fairy  now,"  muttered 
Peter,  "  that  I  feel  so  light.  Have  I  got  wings, 
and  am  I  flying  ?  " 

He  looked  over  the  shoulder  of  his  old,  brown 
coat,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  wings  there. 

"  Still,  this  must  be  a  wand,"  said  Peter  to 
himself,  "  and  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  anything  with 
it." 

The  earth  had  vanished  completely  now,  so 
he  held  out  the  silver  stick  and  said,  "  I'm  tired 
of  standing  up.  I  wish  I  had  a  nice,  soft  cloud 
to  sit  on." 

No  sooner  had  he  made  the  wish  than  a 
lovely  cloud  floated  toward  him.  It  looked  like 


32  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

a  bank  of  swansdown.  He  climbed  into  it  and 
sank  luxuriously  into  the  softness  and  lay  there 
and  wondered,  looking  at  his  shining  treasure. 

While  he  was  musing  he  became  conscious 
that  he  was  not  alone  on  the  cloud ;  and  raising 
himself  on  his  elbow  he  looked  down  to  the 
next  terrace  of  fleecy  white,  and  there  sat  the 
most  charming  little  fairy  you  would  care  to 
see.  Peter  noticed  at  once  that  she  carried  a 
wand  like  his  own,  and  that  her  wings,  so  thin 
and  airy,  yet  looked  strong  enough  to  carry  her 
slight  figure. 

She  smiled  up  at  him.  "  I'm  so  glad  I  found 
you,  Peter,"  she  said  in  a  sweet  voice.  "  I  told 
Rose-Petal  that  I  was  sure  I  could,  and  that  you 
would  be  glad  to  bring  back  her  wand." 

"Who  is  Rose-Petal?"  asked  Peter,  gazing 
admiringly  at  his  companion,  who  certainly 
could  not  have  looked  prettier  anywhere  than 
she  did  on  that  pure,  fleecy-white  cloud  bank. 

"  Rose-Petal  is  the  fairy  who  owns  the  wand 
you  have.  She  lost  it  last  night  at  a  fire-fly 
ball,  and  though  the  fire-flies  were  very  kind  and 
held  their  lanterns  and  flew  about  looking  every- 
where they  could  think  of,  they  couldn't  find  it. 
Rose-Petal  is  down  beside  the  dusty  road,  now, 
where  it  is  so  hot  that  she  feels  as  if  she  were 
wilting ;  so  I  know  you  won't  keep  her  waiting." 

The  fairy  sent  another  sweet  and  coaxing 
stoile  up  at  Peter  but  he  frowned. 


THE  WAND  33 

"  It's  queer  that  a  fellow  can't  get  away  from 
people  even  if  he  climbs  up  on  a  cloud  miles 
away  from  the  earth,"  he  said ;  for  the  last 
thing  he  was  willing  to  do  was  to  give  back  the 
wand  to  Rose-Petal. 

"How  did  you  find  me?"  he  added,  "and 
what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Lily-bud,  and  I  found  you  very 
easily,  only  I  must  say  that  if  I  had  not  seen 
Rose-Petal's  wand  in  your  hand  I  would  have 
thought  it  was  the  wrong  person." 

"Well,  it  is  the  wrong  person,"  said  Peter 
crossly.  "  This  wand  is  mine." 

The  fairy  nodded  sadly.  "  0,  yes,"  she  re- 
plied, "  I  see  the  Wise  Woman  was  right.  She 
said  you  told  lies !  " 

"You  want  to  be  careful  how  you  talk  to 
me,"  said  Peter  very  loud,  and  growing  red  in 
the  face.  "  A  little  more  and  I'll  knock  you  off 
this  cloud." 

Lily-bud  laughed,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how 
pretty  she  looked  when  she  laughed,  because 
her  tiny  face  had  the  sweetest  dimple  in  one 
cheek  and  her  blue  eyes  laughed,  too. 

Her  gauzy  wings  opened  and  closed  as  a  but- 
terfly's will  when  it  is  resting  on  a  flower. 

"  What  difference  would  that  make,  you  poor 
Peter  ?  "  she  said. 

Peter  scowled  because  her  manner  and  her 
words  made  him  feel  even  smaller  than  she  was. 


34  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"How  did  you  find  me,  anyway?"  he 
growled. 

"  0,  I  went  to  the  Wise  Woman  under  the 
hill.  We  fairies  always  go  to  her  when  we 
have  a  hard  question;  and  we  never  had  a 
harder  one  than  this,  for  Rose-Petal  is  the  first 
fairy  I  ever  knew  to  lose  her  wand." 

Lily-bud's  smile  vanished  and  Peter  saw  her 
lip  tremble. 

"  Think  of  her  down  there,  huddling  near  the 
root  of  a  big  tree.  Supposing  someone  should 
step  on  her !  " 

"Why  doesn't  she  fly  up  to  a  safe  place 
then?"  asked  Peter  sullenly.  Lily-bud's  lip 
might  tremble  all  it  wanted  to,  he  was  nut  going 
to  give  up  his  precious,  shiny  stick. 

"  Because  without  her  wand  her  wings  won't 
work,"  explained  Lily-bud. 

"  What  did  that  old,  stupid  Wise  Woman  tell 
you?"  asked  Peter.  He  was  very  cross  at 
being  found. 

"  She  told  me  that  Peter  had  found  the  wand 
and  that  he  was  the  sort  of  boy  who  would  not 
be  willing  to  give  it  back,  no  matter  how  much 
Rose-Petal  suffered." 

Peter  laughed.  "She  is  a  wise  old  thing, 
then,"  he  said. 

"  I  told  her  I  couldn't  believe  it,  for  didn't  all 
boys  take  care  of  girls?  She  said  no,  not  all 
boys,  and  that  Peter  was  one  of  the  worst.  He 


THE  WAND  35 

teased  girls  and  hurt  them  and  so  he  was  a 
coward.  He  teased  animals  and  hurt  them  and 
so  he  was  a  coward.  He  robbed  the  eggs  out  of 
birds'  nests,  and  threw  stones  at  the  birds  with 
a  slingshot,  and  so  he  was  a  coward.  He  kicked 
his  own  dog  that  loved  him,  and  so  he  was  a 
coward." 

Peter  listened  to  all  this  and  grew  so  hot  and 
angry  that  he  couldn't  speak.  Besides  the 
anger,  there  was  a  very  uncomfortable  feeling  in 
his  breast.  It  came  from  the  look  of  disgust  in 
Lily-bud's  eyes  as  they  were  fixed  on  him  with- 
out any  fear. 

"If  you  were  washed,"  she  said,  "and  your 
shoes  blacked,  you  wouldn't  be  bad  looking.  I 
should  never  think,  just  to  look  at  you,  that 
you  were  such  a  poor  wretch." 

Peter  felt  scarlet  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Once  more,"  said  Lily-bud.  "  I'll  ask  you 
once  more  to  think  of  beautiful,  bright  Rose- 
Petal  suffocating  beside  the  dusty  road,  and  ask 
you  to  give  back  her  wand." 

Peter  was  so  ashamed  that  his  ears  burned 
and  he  couldn't  meet  Lily-bud's  eyes,  but  he 
shook  his  head. 

Lily-bud,  without  another  word,  rose  lightly 
to  the  tips  of  her  dainty  toes,  spread  her  gauzy 
wings,  and  flew  off:  the  cloud  and  was  soon  out 
of  sight. 

Peter  was  glad  she  was  gone.     What  differ- 


36  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

ence  did  it  make  to  him  what  was  thought  of 
him  by  two  fairies  and  an  old  crone  of  a  Wise 
Woman?  He  had  the  wand.  That  was  the 
main  thing ;  for  he  had  power  now  to  do  what 
he  pleased,  and  the  thing  he  was  most  anxious 
to  do  was  to  pay  back  Lawrence  for  interfering 
with  him  and  spoiling  his  fun. 

He  waved  the  wand  now  and  asked  to  go 
back  to  earth.  He  rose  to  the  tips  of  his  coarse 
shoes  and  at  once  floated  gently  off  the  cloud 
and  began  the  descent. 

The  pleasant,  cool  air  fanned  him  and  seemed 
to  bear  him  up  on  the  charming  journey.  Soon 
the  earth  came  into  view  and  after  awhile  he 
began  to  recognize  familiar  objects,  and  after  a 
bit  he  alighted  at  the  very  spot  from  which  he 
had  arisen. 

"  I  like  flying,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  shall 
do  that  every  day." 

Pat  was  running  about,  nosing  the  ground 
and  peering  into  every  nook  and  cranny  in  won- 
der where  his  master  had  disappeared.  Had 
Pat  been  a  boy  he  would  have  been  very  glad  to 
have  such  a  master  disappear  and  would  hope 
never  to  see  him  again ;  but  dogs  are  different. 
Is  it  any  wonder  they  are  called  the  friends  of 
man,  when  such  treatment  as  Pat  received  can- 
not destroy  their  affection?  One  should  be 
most  kind  to  such  faithful  creatures.  Don't 
you  think  so  ? 


THE  WAND  37 

Well,  Peter  walked  along  in  a  very  lordly 
way,  feeling  as  if  he  owned  the  earth,  and  twirl- 
ing the  little  stick  that  twinkled  in  the  sunlight, 
and  which  was  going  to  make  him  succeed  in 
everything  he  wanted  to  do.  He  gave  no 
thought  to  Kose-Petal  hiding  herself,  dusty  and 
forlorn,  between  the  tree  roots  so  that  no  one 
should  step  on  her. 

Pat  recognized  him  and  approached  timidly 
and  slowly,  looking  at  his  master  out  of  the 
tops  of  his  eyes. 

"Hello,  Pat,"  said  Peter  in  the  height  of  his 
good  nature,  and  with  a  bound  the  happy  dog 
was  beside  him,  even  daring  to  give  one  little 
jump  up  on  him  to  tell  him  how  glad  he  was 
that  Peter  wasn't  lost. 

He  looked  at  the  stick  and  wondered  if  his 
master  was  going  to  throw  it  for  him  to  chase ; 
but  no,  indeed,  Peter  would  run  no  such  risk 
of  losing  the  wand. 

"  Besides,"  he  thought,  and  the  thought  made 
him  laugh,  "  if  Pat  should  pick  up  this  stick,  he 
might  float  up  into  the  sky  and  live  with  the 
dog-star  forever,  for  he  wouldn't  know  enough 
to  ask  to  come  down." 

It  made  Pat  so  happy  to  hear  his  master 
laugh  that  he  frolicked  about  as  if  he  had  never 
heard  an  unkind  word  in  his  life. 

Peter  even  began  humming  a  tune  as  he 
walked  along,  still  twirling  the  stick.  The 


38  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

forest  bordered  the  road,  and  his  eye  caught 
sight  of  a  handsome  red-winged  blackbird  swing- 
ing on  a  bough.  His  eyes  gleamed.  It  was 
such  a  beauty.  He  hurriedly  picked  up  a  stone. 

"  Hit  the  mark,  Stone/'  he  ordered  gaily,  and 
threw  it  with  sure  aim.  In  a  minute  he  would 
have  those  wings  to  stick  in  his  cap. 

He  ran  forward  toward  the  tree,  when  a  won- 
derful thing  happened.  That  little  stone  turned 
around  in  the  air,  and  flying  back  at  Peter 
struck  him  on  the  cheek  with  such  a  smart  blow 
that  a  tiny  trickle  of  blood  ran  down. 

"Who  did  that?  Who  did  that?"  cried 
Peter,  thinking  at  once  of  Lawrence  and  looking 
all  around.  He  struck  at  Pat,  but  the  dog 
avoided  the  blow. 

The  bird  flew  swiftly  away,  singing,  "  Foolish 
Peter,  Foolish  Peter,"  as  he  went. 

It  astonished  the  boy  to  understand  the  bird's 
song,  but  he  was  still  so  busy  hunting  for  Law- 
rence, dodging  behind  some  tree,  that  he  did  not 
pay  much  attention  to  it.  Everything  that 
happened  to  him  lately  was  strange. 

He  walked  along  the  road,  his  hand  to  his 
cheek.  After  awhile  he  came  to  the  village 
square  where  the  horse  pond  was.  Many  chil- 
dren he  knew  were  there,  and  among  them  Law- 
rence. 

"Aha,  you  ran  faster  than  I  did,"  muttered 
Peter,  "but  I  will  get  even  with  you  all  the  same." 


THE  WAND  39 

Pat  felt  his  mood,  and  came  sedately  after 
him,  his  tail  hanging  limply  close  to  his  hind  legs. 

Peter  waved  his  shining  wand  and  said,  "I 
want  Lawrence  ducked  in  the  horse  pond/'  and 
he  set  himself  to  laugh  at  the  other  boy  when 
he  should  see  him  struggling  in  the  pond. 

Instantly  there  was  a  splash,  but  it  was  Peter 
who  was  floundering  in  the  water,  choking  and 
coughing  and  making  great  ado  because  he 
couldn't  swim. 

The  children  all  gathered  around,  and  because 
each  of  them  had  some  unpleasant  memory  of 
Peter,  they  laughed  even  while  some  of  them 
tried  to  help  him.  He  was  a  funny  object, 
kicking  and  spluttering  and  clutching  the  water, 
with  his  hair  in  his  eyes. 

"  Here,  Peter,  hang  on,"  said  Lawrence,  and 
bracing  himself  by  holding  to  a  post,  he  offered 
his  foot  to  Peter,  who  managed  to  get  hold  of  it 
and  pull  himself  to  the  edge  where  he  could 
climb  out. 

"Here  you,  keep  out  of  that  pond,"  said  a 
man  coming  near  and  speaking  angrily.  "  Don't 
you  know  enough  not  to  try  to  swim  in  there  ?" 

Peter  crept  away,  dripping,  from  the  laughter 
of  the  children,  and  Pat  followed  him  close. 

"  Foolish  Peter.  Foolish  Peter,"  sang  a  voice 
again.  This  time  there  was  no  bird  and  he 
thought  it  sounded  like  Lily-bud's  voice,  it  was 
so  small  and  sweet. 


40  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  How  did  I  happen  to  trip  and  fall  in  there/' 
the  boy  wondered  as  he  hurried  along. 

The  worst  part  of  it  was  being  helped  out  by 
Lawrence,  and  Lawrence  had  laughed  too, 
laughed  harder  than  anybody  when  Peter  was 
safe  on  the  ground,  looking  like  a  drowned  rat. 

"  Foolish  Peter,"  repeated  the  voice.  "  You 
might  have  made  all  those  children  love  you, 
then  nobody  would  have  laughed  at  your 
troubles." 

He  hurried  along,  past  the  market  wagons, 
and  a  horse  accidentally  hit  him,  turning  his 
head,  Peter  drew  back  his  foot  to  kick  the 
horse,  as  he  did  Pat ;  and  suddenly  he  received 
a  kick  in  his  own  leg,  so  severe  that  it  made 
him  jump.  He  was  sure,  too,  that  he  heard  the 
horse  say :  "  Foolish  Peter,"  as  he  shook  his 
head. 

The  boy  hurried  the  faster,  too  blind  with 
anger  and  with  the  water  still  dripping  from  his 
hair,  to  care  where  he  was  going.  He  saw  that 
Pat  was  following  on.  There  was  one  good 
thing  about  Pat.  He  couldn't  laugh,  and  he 
couldn't  talk  and  lecture  him. 

"  Where  was  that  Lily-bud,  following  him  and 
nagging  him  ?  "  He  looked  all  about,  but  noth- 
ing was  to  be  seen  except  the  country  road. 
His  leg  ached  from  the  kick  he  had  meant  to 
give  the  horse,  and  his  clothes  stuck  to  him. 

Ahead   of   him   he  now  saw   a  huge,  coarse 


THE  WAND  41 

bramble  bush  growing  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
Peter  regarded  it  eagerly  and  looked  about  to 
see  if  he  had  lost  the  wand  in  the  pond.  No, 
there  it  was.  It  had  fallen  into  a  side-pocket 
and  was  glittering  there. 

Some  one  had  fired  a  stone  at  him,  he  had 
tripped  and  fallen  into  the  horse  pond,  and 
somebody  hiding  under  a  market  wagon  had 
kicked  him,  but  here  he  was  safe.  He  was  the 
only  person  on  the  road,  and  the  thorns  on  that 
bramble  bush  would  stop  Lawrence's  laughing 
for  some  time  anyway.  Peter  would  sit  here 
close  to  it  by  the  roadside  and  laugh  at  him  to 
his  heart's  content. 

He  took  out  the  wand  and  waved  it.  "  I  wish 
Lawrence  was  in  the  middle  of  that  bramble 
bush,"  he  said. 

Suddenly  something  began  to  scratch  him  like 

thousand  pins  and  he  found  himself  in  the 
midst  of  the  brambles,  which  at  every  move 
made  him  squeal  as  he  was  scratched  in  a  new 
place. 

Before  he  managed  to  get  out  of  that  tor- 
menting bush,  Peter  was  a  thoroughly  fright- 
ened and  suffering  boy.  Pat  leaped  about  in 
distress  and  even  made  his  own  mouth  sore  try- 
ing to  pull  away  the  brambles  so  his  master 
could  escape. 

At  last  Peter  was  free,  and  rolling  to  a  safe 
spot  on  the  grass,  he  set  himself  to  pull  out 


42  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

some  of  the  thorns  that  stuck  in  his  flesh. 
As  he  did  so  Pat  licked  the  hurt  places  on  his 
master's  legs  and  arms  and  this,  with  the  sight 
of  the  wounds  on  the  dog's  own  lips,  which  he 
had  suffered  in  trying  to  help  Peter,  brought 
tears  to  the  boy's  eyes.  He  put  his  arms  a- 
round  Pat,  and  the  dog  licked  his  master's  cheek 
in  his  happiness. 

"Wise  Peter,"  said  a  voice,  "Now  there  is 
hope." 

Peter  looked  up  and  there  sat  Lily-bud  sway- 
ing on  a  purple  thistle.  She  smiled  very  kindly 
at  the  boy. 

"  You've  had  a  hard  time,  haven't  you  ?  "  she 
said. 

Peter  nodded.  He  was  trying  to  stop  the 
bleeding  of  Pat's  lips  with  the  edge  of  his  soft, 
wet  shirt.  "I  wish  I  had  never  kicked  my 
dog,"  he  said. 

At  that  Lily-bud's  face  grew  very  happy. 
"  Do  you  begin  to  see  that  you  didn't  understand 
how  to  use  Rose-Petal's  wand  ?  "  she  asked. 

Peter  felt  too  crushed  to  speak.  He  shook 
his  head. 

"You  see,"  explained  Lily-bud,  "that  wand 
belongs  to  a  good  fairy." 

Peter  looked  up  at  her  and  the  truth  began  to 
come  to  him  slowly.  Lily-bud  smiled  and  sat 
on  her  purple  cushion  and  swayed,  and  let  him 
think. 


THE  WAND  43 

"  Then  I  suppose  it  would  cure  Pat's  mouth/' 
he  said  eagerly,  at  last. 

She  nodded.     "  Try  it/'  she  answered. 

Peter  waved  the  glittering  stick  in  his 
scratched  hand.  "I  want  Pat's  mouth  to  be 
well,"  he  said,  and  instantly  the  dog  yawned 
and  licked  his  chops  with  satisfaction,  for  they 
were  as  whole  and  comfortable  as  ever  they  were. 

Peter  gave  him  a  hug.  "  How  about  my  arms 
and  legs  ?  "  he  asked  then,  rather  shamefaced. 

Lily-bud  shook  her  head.  "Pat  got  his 
scratches  in  love,"  she  said;  and  Peter  looked 
off  and  began  to  think  some  more. 

As  soon  as  he  dropped  his  hand  from  the  dog, 
Pat  would  tuck  his  head  under  it  again.  It  was 
so  wonderful  to  have  his  master  pet  him.  He 
couldn't  get  enough  of  it. 

"Isn't  it  strange,"  said  Lily-bud,  "how  much 
happiness  children  are  willing  to  miss  by  not 
being  kind  ?  Do  you  think  that  ducking  Law- 
rence in  the  pond  would  give  you  half  as  much  fun 
as  to  see  his  face  if  you  gave  him  something  nice  ?" 

"I  could  give  him  something  nice  with  the 
wand,"  replied  Peter. 

Lily-bud  nodded.     "  Yes/'  she  answered. 

Peter  was  thinking  faster  than  he  had  ever 
thought  in  his  life.  "But  I  haven't  any  right 
to/'  he  said. 

"Why?"  asked  Lily-bud;  but  she  looked 
very  much  pleased. 


44  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  Because  it  doesn't  belong  to  me,"  he  an- 
swered, and  at  this  Lily-bud  was  so  happy  that 
she  flew  right  over  to  him  and  alighted  on  his 
scratched  hand. 

"  You  are  growing  wise,  Peter,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  a  knife  that  Lawrence  thinks  is  the 
best  one  he  ever  saw,"  said  Peter,  "  and  that  is 
my  own  to  give." 

"  Right-0,"  said  Lily-bud.  "  Now  who  is  the 
next  person  to  think  about?"  she  asked. 

Peter's  eyes  met  hers  very  brightly,  and  he 
saw  her  wings  close  and  unclose  in  her  eager- 
ness. After  a  moment  more  of  thought  he 
waved  the  wand  once  again.  "  I  wish  we  were 
with  Rose-Petal,"  he  said. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  he  and 
Pat  found  themselves  under  a  large,  spreading 
tree  a  little  away  from  a  roadside,  and  there, 
with  her  tiny  hands  clinging  to  the  moss,  was  a 
lovely  fairy  who  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  Pat 
with  frightened  eyes. 

"  All  right,  all  right,"  sang  Lily-bud,  flitting 
around  Peter's  head  on  bright  wings.  The 
moment  Rose-Petal  heard  her  friend's  voice  she 
turned  about.  Peter  saw  that  this  new  fairy's 
wings  were  drooping  and  that  she  looked  pale 
and  sad.  He  could  hardly  wait  to  give  her 
what  was  her  own,  and  he  leaned  down,  holding 
out  the  bright  bit  of  silver. 

"  Here  is  your  wand,  Rose-Petal,"  he  said. 


THE  WAND  45 

How  gladly  the  little  creature  seized  it,  and 
Peter  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  cheeks  flush 
and  her  eyes  grow  bright  and  her  gauzy  wings 
lift,  while  rosy  color  ran  in  waves  all  over  her 
white  gown,  from  which  the  dust  fell  away. 
She  looked  up  at  him  with  lovely,  grateful  eyes, 
and  flew  twice  around  his  head  before  she 
alighted  on  his  shoulder  and  spoke  into  his  ear. 

"And  what  can  I  do  for  you,  Peter?"  she 
asked  in  a  voice  that  was  like  sweet  music. 
"  Your  arms  are  bleeding." 

"  I  don't  deserve  anything,"  replied  Peter,  not 
daring  to  move  with  that  dainty  being  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  I  can't  leave  you  without  showing  my  grati- 
tude," said  Rose-Petal,  and  Lily-bud  felt  so 
happy  and  full  of  fun  that  she  alighted  on  Pat's 
ear,  but  he  thought  a  twig  was  tickling  him, 
and  he  put  up  his  paw  so  she  whirred  away 
laughing,  and  then  flew  back  to  Rose-Petal  and 
took  her  hand. 

"  This  is  a  very  uncomfortable,  wet  coat 
you're  standing  on,"  she  said. 

"I  think  so  too,"  replied  Rose-Petal,  "so  first 
we'll  forget  all  those  scratches."  She  touched 
Peter  with  the  wand  and  instantly  his  arms  and 
legs  were  smooth — "and  then,"  she  continued, 
"  we'll  make  him  as  nice  outside  as  he  is  inside." 
She  touched  him  again  and  all  the  shabby 
clothes  were  gone,  and  the  boy  found  himself 


46  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

dressed  in  a  fine,  strong  suit  with  shoes  that 
fitted  him  perfectly. 

"Good  bye,  Peter,"  she  said,  "and  if  I  ever 
lose  my  wand  again  I  hope  you  will  be  the  one 
to  find  it." 

There  was  a  little,  whirring  sound,  Peter's 
cheek  was  fanned  by  a  zephyr,  and  the  fairies 
were  gone.  He  called  them,  for  he  wanted  to 
thank  Rose-Petal,  but  there  was  no  reply. 

When,  later,  he  and  Pat  came  walking  home 
they  created  some  excitement  on  the  street  and 
in  his  cottage. 

"I  said  that  boy  would  come  to  no  good," 
said  one  old  woman  who  saw  him  pass.  "  Let 
some  one  fetch  the  constable.  He  has  stolen  a 
new  suit  of  clothes  and  should  be  clapped  in 
jail." 

"  His  mother  questioned  him  and  he  told  her 
that  a  fairy  gave  him  the  clothes  and  that  he 
had  been  in  the  sky  on  a  cloud." 

"Poor  child,  he  has  had  a  sunstroke,"  ex- 
claimed his  mother,  and  she  put  him  to  bed  and 
nursed  him  for  a  couple  of  days,  but  when  he 
arose  the  new  clothes  were  still  there,  and  he 
put  them  on  and  went  back  to  school. 

Little  by  little  the  girls  and  boys  found  they 
need  not  avoid  him,  and  he  carried  out  his  plan 
to  give  Lawrence  the  precious  knife,  and  this 
made  Lawrence  his  friend  for  life. 

Peter  was  so  changed  and  quiet  and  thought- 


THE  WAND  47 

ful  that  many  of  the  grown  people  who  heard 
what  he  had  told  his  mother  said  that  he  had 
lost  his  mind ;  but  the  school  teacher,  who  had 
suffered  much  from  his  pranks,  in  the  past, 
shook  her  head. 

"No  indeed,"  she  said  earnestly.  "He  has 
found  it.  Watch  and  see  if  Peter  doesn't  come 
to  be  the  happiest  boy  in  the  village." 

And  sure  enough  he  did. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE   GOLDEN   KEY. 

fTHHE  next  time  Lois  and  Hal  asked  Wenonah 

for  a  story  she  said  she  had  noticed  how 

happy  they  seemed  to  be  together  and  that 

they  made  her  think  of  a  little  brother  and  sister 

she  knew  of  who  lived  in  a  far  country  where 

the  rivers  had  very  long  names. 

"  Will  you  tell  us  about  them  ?  "  asked  Lois, 
as  she  and  Hal  settled  themselves  to  work  on 
their  baskets. 

"  Yes/'  replied  Wenonah.  "  This  special  river 
that  I  am  thinking  of  was  named  Wapsipinicon." 
Her  eyes  sparkled  at  the  children  as  she  said  it, 
for  she  knew  that  name  was  a  mouthful. 

"  Whew  !  "  exclaimed  Hal,  "  I'd  have  to  prac- 
tice a  week  to  say  that  word." 

"  Well,  if  you  had  seen  this  river,"  went  on 
Wenonah,  "you  wouldn't  have  cared  what  its 
name  was,  it  was  so  lovely.  It  did  not  run  very 
swiftly,  but  dreamed  along  between  its  flowery 
banks  like  a  maiden  who  strolls  in  pleasant  paths, 
musing  as  she  goes. 

The  water  was  so  clear  you  could  see  the  fish 
swimming  in  it,  and  the  gold-brown  sand  at  the 

48 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  49 

bottom.  The  rocks  that  peeped  out  here  and 
there  made  little  whirlpools  and  waterfalls  as  the 
river  gurgled  around  them. 

This  brother  and  sister  loved  each  other  so 
much  they  never  thought  of  quarreling.  Where 
you  saw  one  you  would  be  pretty  sure  to  find  the 
other.  They  were  very  fond  of  playing  on  the 
river  bank  because  the  best  wild  flowers  grew 
there  and  wheR  their  work  was  done  around  their 
home  they  would  run  a  race  every  day  to  see 
which  would  get  into  the  woods  first,  and  then, 
crashing  through  the  bushes  and  between  the  big 
trees,  they  would  scamper  until  they  came  out 
into  the  sunshine  again  by  the  river. 

They  loved  that  beautiful  playmate,  the  river, 
always  running  away,  yet  always  there,  whisper- 
ing and  laughing  and  welcoming  them  with 
every  sunny  ripple. 

One  afternoon  the  children  espied  a  new  flower 
of  a  deep  orange  color  growing  on  a  high  bank 
near  a  clump  of  bushes.  When  they  reached  the 
blossom  they  found  that  it  gave  off  a  delicious 
spicy  odor.  They  were  delighted  and  stooped 
eagerly  to  pick  it,  but  before  their  hands  reached 
the  stem  a  clear  little  voice  spoke  severely. 

"  What  is  your  name,  little  boy  ?  " 

The  two  stood  close  together  in  their  surprise 
and  did  not  answer. 

The  voice  spoke  again.  "  What  is  your  name, 
little  boy?" 


50  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  My  name  is  Pierre,"  answered  the  boy,  look- 
ing all  about  for  his  questioner. 

"What  is  your  name,  little  girl?"  asked  the 
voice. 

It  was  such  a  sweet  voice,  as  well  as  shrill, 
that  the  little  girl  was  not  really  afraid,  but  she 
stood  a  little  closer  to  her  brother. 

"  My  name  is  lona,"  she  said. 

Then  Pierre   spoke   quickly,  "But  who  are 

you?" 

"  I  am  one  of  the  guards  of  the  fairy  queen," 
was  the  reply;  and  suddenly  the  children  saw 
the  owner  of  the  shrill  little  voice. 

He  was  about  as  tall  as  your  finger,  dressed 
in  green  so  exactly  the  color  of  the  bush  on 
which  he  was  standing  that  no  wonder  they 
had  not  seen  him  sooner.  A  sword  hung  by 
his  side,  and  looking  closely  they  saw  that  it 
was  a  thorn.  An  acorn  cup  was  his  cap,  and 
stuck  in  it  was  a  tiny  stiff  feather  some  bird  had 
dropped. 

He  was  so  cunning  lona  longed  to  pick  him 
up,  but  he  looked  so  important  and  stern  she 
felt  sure  that  he  would  resent  any  attack  on  his 
dignity  with  that  very  sharp  sword,  and  she 
thought  she  would  better  let  him  alone. 

"That  orange  flower,"  went  on  the  guard, 
"  belongs  to  the  fairy  king  and  queen  and  you 
must  not  break  it." 

"  Do  they  own  all  these  wild-flowers  ?  "  asked 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  51 

Pierre.  "I  have  picked  a  lot  of  them.  We 
didn't  know  they  belonged  to  anybody." 

"  No,  their  flower  garden  is  not  like  that  of 
mortals,  all  huddled  together  in  one  place,"  ( the 
guard  spoke  quite  scornfully).  "Their  flowers 
are  scattered  and  that  is  why  they  require  guards. 
Some  are  in  the  woods,  some  in  the  mountains, 
some  in  ravines,  so  now  you  understand,  unless 
you  are  very  dull  mortal  children." 

"  0,  we  understand,"  returned  lona  eagerly. 
"  Do  you  suppose  we  could  see  the  fairy  king  and 
queen  ?  We  have  wanted  to  all  our  lives." 

The  guard  lifted  his  little  shoulders  and  looked 
very  proud.  "  It  is  possible,"  he  said,  "  but  not 
the  easiest  thing  in  the  world." 

"  We  wouldn't  care  if  it  was  very  hard  indeed," 
said  Pierre  earnestly.  "  Is  that  thorn  of  yours 
instead  of  a  wand  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean-  by  a  thorn," 
returned  the  guard,  and  lona  noticed  that  he 
looked  displeased. 

"  He  means  your  sword,  please,  Sir,"  she  said, 
so  very  humbly  that  the  guard's  face  cleared, 
and  she  gave  Pierre's  hand  a  tight  squeeze 
to  remind  him  that  sometimes  the  smaller  peo- 
ple are  the  bigger  they  feel  themselves  to 
be. 

"No,  I  don't  need  any  wand.  My  duty  is 
simply  to  keep  order.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
helping  other  people  about  their  affairs  as  Rose- 


52  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

Petal  and  Lily-bud  and  others  like  them  are 
always  doing." 

lona  tried  not  to  laugh.  The  guard  was  so 
small  and  thought  so  much  of  himself. 

"If  I  should  pick  this  orange  flower  what 
would  happen  to  me  ?  "  asked  Pierre.  "  Would 
you  take  me  before  the  king  and  queen? "  He 
was  thinking  that  might  be  a  good  way  to  get 
there. 

"  It  would  be  my  duty  to  thrust  your  fingers 
through  and  through/'  replied  the  guard,  his 
hand  on  his  sword  hilt  and  his  face  very  threat- 
ening, "  and  you  should  never  see  the  king  and 
queen." 

"  Oh,  we  wouldn't  do  it,  of  course/'  exclaimed 
lona  hastily,  "  since  you  ask  us  not  to,  and  if  you 
would  be  so  very  kind  as  to  tell  us  how  to  get  to 
the  fairy  court  we  couldn't  thank  you  enough." 

The  guard's  fierce  frown  vanished  and  he  re- 
garded the  children  more  cheerfully. 

"  First,"  said  he,  "  of  course  you  would  have 
to  travel  some  distance." 

"  0  yes,"  they  cried. 

"  You  will  have  to  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you." 

"  Of  course,"  the  answer  came  very  eagerly. 

"  You,  Pierre,"  said  the  guard  fairy,  "  must 
think  of  a  number.  You,  lona,  must  think  of 
a  letter.  Be  sure  not  to  forget  them.  Then 
when  I  tell  you  what  to  do  you  must  each  get 
on  them,  one  on  the  letter  and  one  on  the  num- 


THE   GOLDEN  KEY  53 

ber  and  sail  across  the  Wapsipinicon.  On  the 
opposite  bank  you  will  find  a  pool  lying  in  the 
midst  of  bulrushes.  That  is  a  fairy  pool  and 
there  you  will  meet  a  sentry  called  Bullfrog.  He 
will  ask  your  names  and  your  business  and  you 
must  tell  him  what  you  are  seeking  and  he  will 
help  you  on  your  way.  As  soon  as  you  get  on 
your  letter  and  number  I  will  push  you  off  from 
the  bank  with  my  sword  and  you  will  have  a 
safe  journey." 

"  0  let  us  go  at  once/'  cried  the  children. 

The  guard  looked  very  strange  for  a  moment. 
66  It  is  so  long  since  I  helped  mortals  to  go  to  the 
fairy  court  that  I  have  forgotten  something,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  The  last  children  that  went  to 
court  did  a  dreadful  thing  and  I  had  forgotten 
it.  I  don't  believe  you  will  be  able  to  go  after 
all." 

"  Tell  us  what  it  was,"  begged  Pierre.  "  How 
could  anything  other  children  did  keep  us  from 
going?" 

"Why  they  lost  the  key  to  the  palace  gate," 
said  the  guard.  "  Of  course  fairies  don't  need 
it,  but  mortals  do.  You  can  not  enter  without 
it." 

Pierre  and  lona  looked  at  one  another.  This 
was  surely  a  hard  situation. 

"  There  is  no  harm  in  our  hunting  for  the  key, 
is  there  ?  "  asked  lona. 

"  No,"  returned  the  guard,  "  No  harm,  and  no 


54  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

hope.  You  must  know  that  many  people  have 
searched  for  it." 

"  Let  us  try  at  any  rate,"  said  Pierre.  "  If 
we  should  find  the  key  and  come  back  may  we 
call  you?" 

"I'm  a  very  busy  person,"  said  the  guard, 
"for  as  you  can  understand  I  have  to  follow 
children  about  from  place  to  place.  However, 
if  you  find  the  key  you  may  come  back  here  and 
standing  in  this  same  spot  say, 

( Come,  brave  flower-guard,  near  or  far, 
Wapsipinicon,  'rah,  'rah,  'rah ! ' 

and  I  will  be  with  you." 

The  guard  held  himself  very  straight. 

"  What  does  the  key  look  like  ?  "  asked  Ion  a. 

"It  is  small  and  made  of  gold,"  said  the  guard. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,"  cried  both  the  children, 
but  they  found  they  were  talking  to  a  green 
bush.  The  guard  had  vanished. 

The  orange  flower  was  sending  out  such  charm- 
ing fragrance  that  they  looked  at  it  once  more, 
wistfully,  then  at  each  other,  and  shook  their 
heads. 

"  We  said  we  wouldn't,  you  know,''  said  lona. 

"Besides,"  returned  Pierre,  "  we  have  to  find 
that  key  or  else  never  see  the  fairy  court.  Those 
children  must  have  dropped  it  in  the  woods  or  in 
the  water,  for  if  it  had  been  on  the  grass  it  could 
easily  have  been  found." 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  55 

Brother  and  sister  stood  hand  in  hand  on  the 
bank  of  the  river5  wondering  if  somewhere  amid 
its  golden  sand  lay  a  little  golden  key. 

"Do  you  remember,"  said  lona,  "what  the 
flower  guard  said  about  two  fairies  who  helped 
people  with  their  affairs  ?  I  was  thinking  how 
nice  it  would  be  if  one  of  them  would  help  us 
now.  Do  you  remember  their  names  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  were  Rose-bud  and  Lily- 
petal." 

"  Let  us  see  if  we  can  persuade  them  to  come/' 
said  lona.  "  The  flower  guard  gave  us  a  rhyme 
for  himself.  Can  you  make  a  verse  about  Eose- 
bud?" 

Pierre  thought  deeply  for  a  moment.  "  I  don't 
believe  I  can,"  he  answered.  "Can  you?  You 
must,  lona.  It's  necessary/' 

So  lona  thought  and  thought.    At  last  she  said, 

"  Kose-bud  of  the  gauzy  wing, 
We  need  you  like  anything." 

Then  the  children  looked  all  about.  The  for- 
est trees  back  of  them  were  waving  and  shimmer- 
ing in  the  sun.  Daises  and  buttercups  were 
bright  along  the  shore,  and  a  tangle  of  wild  rose- 
bushes covered  with  blossoms  made  the  air  sweet ; 
but  no  fairy  appeared. 

"  They  must  be  good  fairies,"  said  Pierre,  "  or 
else  they  wouldn't  help  people,  and  there  must 
be  some  way  to  get  them.  That  proud  little 


56  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

flower  guard  appeared  to  us  quick  enough  with- 
out any  verse  being  said  to  him." 

"  Perhaps  we  haven't  the  names  right,"  said 
lona.  "  I  wonder  if  it  wasn't  Lily-bud  and  Rose- 
Petal." 

"  Try  again,  then/'  returned  Pierre. 

So  lona  thought  very  earnestly  again  and  at 
last  said, 

«  Kose-Petal  bright,  Eose-Petal  gay, 
Help  us  to  find  the  key  today." 

"What  key,  children?"  asked  a  voice,  and 
turning  quickly  they  saw  on  the  nearest  wild 
rose-bush  a  fairy  swaying.  Rosy  waves  swept 
over  her  white  gown  in  ripples  of  color,  and 
her  wings  changed  from  silver  to  rose  as  they 
closed  and  unclosed. 

Pierre  and  lona  hurried  toward  her. 

"  0  dear  Rose-Petal,"  said  lona,  clasping  her 
hands  in  happiness  at  seeing  the  bright  little  be- 
ing. "  The  flower  guard  will  help  us  to  the  fairy 
court  if  we  can  only  find  the  key  to  the  palace 
gate.  Some  children  lost  it.  Can  you  help  us  ?  " 

Rose-Petal  shook  her  head  and  smiled.  "I 
will  do  what  I  can,  but  when  mortals  lose  things, 
mortals  must  find  them." 

"But  I  suppose  you  know  everything,"  said 
Pierre.  "  I  suppose  you  know  where  the  key  is." 

"No,"  returned  Rose-Petal,"  I  don't  know 
where  it  is,  but  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  find  it,  for 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  57 

it  is  rather  a  pity  children  should  not  be  able 
any  longer  to  visit  our  court.'* 

"  Do  you  go  there  often  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"I  live  there/'  replied  Rose-Petal.  "I  am 
one  of  the  queen's  maids  of  honor." 

"Then  why  can't  you  take  us?"  suggested 
lona  eagerly. 

"  You  know  already/'  returned  the  fairy. 
"  Mortals  must  use  the  key,  and  when  two  chil- 
dren like  you,  who  are  not  selfish  or  quarrelsome, 
wish  to  go  I  am  glad  to  help  them  for  they  al- 
ready have  the  greatest  key  of  all,  the  key  that 
unlocks  all  earthly  doors." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Love,"  replied  Rose-Petal,  "and  for  that 
reason  they  will  not  carry  into  the  fairy  court 
anything  but  love.  Many  children  have  too 
much  other  baggage  to  carry :  selfishness,  bad 
temper,  sometimes  even  dishonesty.  That  was 
the  trouble  with  the  last  mortal  visitors  we  had, 
and  it  was  in  some  quarrel  that  they  lost  the 
key.  Now  this  is  what  I  will  do  for  you."  Rose 
Petal  produced  two  acorn  cups  such  as  the  flower 
guard  had  worn.  "  Here  are  two  caps.  They 
have  many  virtues  and  will  make  you  understand 
much  that  you  never  understood  before." 

She  touched  the  children  with  her  silver  wand. 
The  children  took  the  acorn  cups  gratefully,  but 
they  smiled  at  each  other  and  then  at  the  pretty 
face  and  bright  eyes  of  the  fairy. 


58  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  I  don't  see  how  we  can  ever  wear  such  caps 
as  these,"  said  lona,  laughing. 

Rose-Petal  smiled.  "  They  will  fit  you  when 
you  put  them  on/'  she  said.  "  Try  it." 

The  children  placed  the  little  caps  on  the  top 
of  their  heads  and  suddenly  the  strangest  thing 
happened  to  Rose-Petal.  She  grew  as  big  as 
they  were,  and  Pierre  and  lona  were  so  occupied 
with  that  change  that  they  did  not  notice  that 
the  new  caps  fitted  them  perfectly. 

Rose-Petal  with  the  vibrant  waves  of  7rose 
color  playing  over  her  wings  and  her  gauzy  gown, 
looked  so  tall  and  dignified  and  beautiful  that 
lona  wondered  how  a  minute  ago  she  could  have 
longed  to  take  her  up  in  her  hand. 

"  I  didn't  know  there  were  such  large  fairies," 
exclaimed  Pierre. 

Rose-Petal  laughed  gaily.  "  And  I  didn't 
know  there  were  such  small  children/'  she  an- 
swered, and  at  once  there  was  nothing  where  she 
had  been  standing  but  a  huge  wild  rose.  Pierre 
and  lona  grasped  each  other's  hands.  They 
were  swinging  on  the  bough  of  a  bushy  tree 
with  giant  roses  all  around  them. 

"How  did  we  get  up  in  this  tree?"  asked 
lona. 

"I  suppose  we  climbed  up/'  said  Pierre,  "but 
I  don't  remember  it.  Shall  I  help  you  down?  ". 
He  took  off  his  cap  to  put  it  in  his  pocket  be- 
cause he  knew  it  was  valuable  to  them  in  some 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  59 

way,  and  instantly  he  was  standing  beside  the 
wild  rose-bush,  and  there  before  him  was  a  little 
creature  no  bigger  than  Rose-Petal  standing  on 
a  twig  and  wearing  an  acorn  cap. 

He  laughed  and  took  the  cap  off  his  sister's 
head  and  at  once  she  stood  beside  him  on  the 
ground,  beside  the  rose-bush. 

"  Why,  Pierre  !  "  she  cried. 

"Why,  lona,"  he  answered.  "Our  caps  are 
wonderful  things,  but  I  don't  see  yet  how  they 
are  going  to  help  us." 

"  We  shall  find  out,"  replied  lona.  "  First  of 
all  I  think  we  ought  to  search  the  river,  don't 
you?" 

"  That  would  take  us  the  rest  of  our  lives," 
returned  Pierre,  "for  the  river  begins  in  the 
mountains  and  flows  into  the  sea." 

"But  the  water-nixie  will  perhaps  know," 
said  lona.  "  Rose-Petal  believed  there  was  hope 
of  our  finding  the  key  or  she  would  not  have 
helped  us.  Her  eyes  looked  kind.  She  wouldn't 
play  tricks." 

"No,"  returned  Pierre,  "I'm  sure  she  was  a 
good  fairy.  Then  you  will  have  to  make  up 
another  verse,  lona." 

"  You  do  this  one,"  suggested  his  sister. 

Pierre  scratched  his  head  and  wrinkled  his 
forehead  but  rhymes  wouldn't  come,  so  lona 
tried  again. 

They  both  stood  close  to  the  river  and  Pierre 


60  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

said,  "  I  think  our  caps  might  help.     Rose-Petal 
said  we  should  understand  everything  better." 

So,  pushing  the  acorn  cups  down  over  their 
heads  again  they  found  they  fitted  perfectly  and 
suddenly  the  river  had  become  such  a  great  tor- 
rent that  they  stepped  back  a  little  and  lona 
cried  in  a  high,  sweet  voice, 

"  Wapsipinicon,  ?rah,  'rah,  'rah, 
Come,  pretty  Nixie,  wherever  you  are." 

Instantly  the  waterfall  formed  by  the  largest 
rock  that  stuck  out  of  the  river  bed  became  misty, 
and  a  spray  rose  from  it,  higher,  higher,  higher, 
until  the  children  saw  a  lovely  maiden's  form 
grow  clearer  and  clearer. 

The  crystal  water  shimmered  over  her  head 
and  long  hair  and  gown  of  mist,  and  she  stood, 
a  slender,  lovely,  dripping  fountain  and  gazed 
upon  the  tiny  children  kindly. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come,"  said  Pierre. 
He  snatched  off  his  cap  politely  and  nearly 
stepped  upon  lona,  who  leaped  away  from  him. 
He  restored  it  very  quickly  you  may  be  sure,  and 
the  Nixie  continued  to  gaze  at  them  through  her 
rippling,  watery  veil,  without  apparently  notic- 
ing these  extraordinary  changes. 

"We  are  searching  for  the  lost  key  to  the 
fairy  palace  gate,"  explained  lona.  "It  is 
of  gold.  Have  you  seen  it  glittering  in  your 
river?" 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  61 

"  No,"  returned  the  Nixie  in  a  gurgling  tone. 
"  The  key  is  not  in  the  river." 

"Do  you  know  where  it  is?"  cried  Pierre 
eagerly. 

"  Those  of  the  ground  must  tell  you,"  gurgled 
the  Nixie.  "  The  water  knows  nothing  of  it." 

The  springing  fountain  lowered  slowly,  slowly, 
the  mist  melted  and  the  waterfall  played  as  be- 
fore over  its  sturdy  rock. 

The  children  looked  at  one  another.  "  That 
was  good,"  said  Pierre.  "  It  saves  a  great  deal 
of  time.  We  can  go  faster  without  our  caps, 
since  Kose-Petal  forgot  to  give  us  wings  to  go 
with  them,  and  next  we  must  go  to  the  forest." 

They  took  off  the  caps  and  hurried  fast  as 
their  feet  would  carry  them  back  into  the  woods. 

"  Now,  slow  and  sure,"  said  Pierre,  and  they 
fitted  on  their  caps  again.  They  saw  at  once 
what  Rose-Petal  had  meant  by  what  she  said  of 
their  being  better  able  to  understand,  for  to  their 
great  surprise  a  bird, who  had  begun  to  twitter  as 
they  stepped  in  among  the  trees,  was  speaking. 

"  There  are  those  two  children  again,"  she 
chirped.  "  They  crash  through  the  bushes  here 
so  many  times  a  day  it  is  very  strange  they 
never  seem  to  remember  that  trees  were  made 
for  us  and  not  for  them.  I'm  always  expecting 
them  to  look  up  and  see  my  nest,  and  some  chil- 
dren are  robbers,  you  know." 

"  We  are  not,"  cried  lona,  but  the  bird  flew 


62  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

away,  paying  no  attention  to  her  and  singing  as 
she  went,  "  Robbers,  robbers,"  to  warn  the  other 
birds. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  have  them  think  that,"  said 
lona  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  No  matter  now,"  said  Pierre,  "  we  must  look 
steadily  at  the  ground  as  we  walk  to  see  if  we 
can  find  that  key." 

A  bird  up  among  the  highest  branches  had 
heard  lona's  words  of  grief  that  she  should  be 
thought  a  robber  and  he  felt  sorry  for  her. 

"  Ask  the  Wise  Man,"  he  sang. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  cried  Pierre. 

"Downstairs,  downstairs,"  sang  the  bird,  as 
he  too,  flew  away. 

"How  can  there  be  stairs  in  the  woods?" 
asked  Pierre. 

"  In  the  hollow  tree, 
See  what  you  can  see," 

sang  somebody.  It  might  have  been  a  bird,  but 
the  children  thought  it  sounded  like  Rose-Petal's 
voice.  At  any  rate  they  began  looking  for  a 
hollow  tree  and  at  last  found  one. 

They  climbed  up  with  their  small  hands  and 
feet  and  looked  all  about  the  hollow.  At  one  side 
there  seemed  to  be  a  dark  hole  and  as  they  came 
closer  they  saw  little  stairs  leading  downward. 

A  woodpecker  outside  the  trunk  saw  them  go 
in.  Tapping  hard  on  the  bark  he  said,  "  Flatter 
him,  flatter  him." 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  63 

"I  don't  see  anyone  to  flatter,"  said  Pierre. 

"  Nor  I,  but  perhaps  we  shall,"  returned  lona. 
Let  us  go  down  those  stairs.  The  birds  know 
all  about  the  woods  and  we  would  better  obey 
them." 

So  they  started  down  the  dark  flight  of  stairs 
which  wound  down,  down,  between  the  twisted 
roots  of  trees  that  had  a  very  earthy  smell. 

At  last  they  came  out  into  a  sort  of  room,  a 
room  with  no  shape  at  all,  you  might  say,  because 
there  were  so  many  passages  leading  on0  from  it ; 
but  it  was  large  enough  for  the  little  brown  man 
who  stood  there  looking  with  surprise  to  see  vis- 
itors appearing  from  the  stairway.  He  had  a 
long  white  beard,  but  his  face  looked  like  a  po- 
tato, lona  thought,  his  eyes  were  so  small,  and 
his  color,  clothes  and  all,  so  brown. 

The  place  was  lighted  by  glow  worms  that 
hung  from  the  top  of  the  room  and  there  was  a 
table  that  was  an  old  tree  root,  and  a  chair  of 
the  same. 

"Flatter  him,  flatter  him"  the  woodpecker 
had  advised,  and  lona  wondered  how  anyone 
could  flatter  such  a  droll  being,  as  homely  and 
earthy  as  he  could  be. 

"Be  sure  to  keep  your  cap  on,"  whispered 
Pierre.  "  We  should  bump  our  heads  dreadfully 
if  we  lost  them,  and  never  get  out,  either." 

The  little  man  did  not  look  glad  to  see  them. 

"  If  you  have  come  to  get  employment  I  don't 


64  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

need  any  more  helpers,"  he  said,  "  so  you  may 
as  well  go  right  back.  This  is  going  to  be  a  very 
busy  day  with  me.  I  felt  thunder  a  minute  ago." 

"  How  can  you  feel  thunder  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"  You  don't  even  know  that  ?  "  said  the  little 
man,  "  and  yet  you  thought  you  could  work  for 
met" 

lona,  with  the  necessity  for  flattery  still  on 
her  mind,  here  spoke : 

"  Of  course  we  don't  expect  to  know  a  quarter 
as  much  as  you  do,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  We 
are  only  children,  and  upstairs  they  call  you  the 
Wise  Man." 

The  gnome  (for  that  is  what  he  was),  stroked 
his  beard,  and  his  eyes  shone  with  satisfaction. 
"  Of  course.  They  naturally  would/'  he  said. 
"  What  else  could  they  call  me  ?  " 

"  0,  what  darling  kittens,"  cried  lona,  stoop- 
ing to  some  little  dark  objects  she  saw  on  the 
ground  near  the  table,  and  she  smoothed  the 
delicate,  dainty  fur.  "  0  Pierre,  did  you  ever 
feel  anything  so  soft  ?  " 

The  gnome  stroked  his  beard  again.  It  was 
a  way  he  had  when  he  was  pleased.  "  You  are 
certainly  very  ignorant,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  good 
thing  you  came  down  here  to  learn  a  few  things. 
Those  are  not  kittens,  they  are  moles." 

"  Why,  so  they  are,"  said  Pierre,  "  and  would 
you  mind  telling  us,  Sir,  what  you  meant  by 
feeling  the  thunder  ?  Where  we  live,  we  hear  it." 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  65 

"  Why  it  shakes  the  earth,  of  course,  and 
when  I  feel  it  vibrating  all  around  me  I  know  I 
shall  soon  be  busy  unless  the  storm  passes 
around.  You'd  better  get  out  now,  for  when 
the  rain  falls  I  shall  have  no  time  to  teach  you 
anything  more  and  I  can't  employ  such  ignorant 
children  as  you  are." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  your 
workmen  do?"  asked  Pierre.  "You  seem  to 
be  all  alone." 

"  Somebody  must  be  here  to  give  directions, 
of  course." 

"  Certainly,  Sir,"  said  Pierre,  "  but  my  sister 
and  I  don't  know  much  about  what  happens  under 
the  ground  and  it  is  so  interesting  to  hear." 

"  Who  did  you  suppose  carried  the  water  to 
the  roots  of  the  trees  and  flowers  ?  " 

"  We  didn't  know,  Sir." 

"  Who  did  you  suppose  helped  the  new  little 
rootlets  to  find  a  drink,  and  guided  them  to  the 
softest  earth-places  so  they  could  reach  down 
and  eat  and  grow  strong  ?  " 

"  We  didn't  know,  Sir." 

"  Well,  you  know  now.  Do  you  see  all  those 
passages  leading  off  in  every  direction  from  this 
room  ?  " 

«  Yes,  Sir." 

"They  are  full  of  my  workmen  for  miles 
around.  They  have  all  felt  the  thunder  and 
they  are  ready." 


66  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  That  is  very  wonderful,"  said  lona,  who 
had  risen  from  caressing  the  moles  and  was  lis- 
tening attentively.  "  You  know,  then,  every- 
thing that  is  in  the  ground,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  on  top  of  the  ground? 
We  are  searching  for  a  golden  key  —  " 

"  0,  that  golden  key  !  "  exclaimed  the  gnome. 
"  What  a  to-do  there  has  been  about  that  key !" 

"  0,  Sir,  if  you  know  anything  about  it," 
exclaimed  Pierre,  "  do  tell  us.  The  birds  told  us 
that  you  were  the  Wise  Man  and  sent  us  down 
to  see  you.  They  felt  you  could  help  us." 

The  gnome  nodded  slowly,  and  closed  one  of 
his  little  potato  eyes  in  a  knowing  wink. 

"  Trust  the  birds  for  that,"  he  said.  "  They 
have  their  own  reasons  for  sending  you  down 
here.  Anything  to  make  you  believe  the  key 
was  on  the  ground,  or  in  it." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  isn't,  dear  Mr.  Wise  Man  ?  " 
asked  lona. 

"  Perfectly  sure.  We  go  upstairs  in  the  twi- 
light when  the  sun  won't  hurt  our  eyes.  We 
know  everything  that  lies  on  the  ground  in  this 
forest." 

"  And  the  key  isn't  there  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"  Do  you  know  where  it  is  —  you  who  know 
everything?"  cried  lona,  grasping  the  edge  of 
the  gnome's  earthy  smock  with  beseeching 
hands. 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  67 

"  I  know  everything  that  it  is  my  business  to 
know,"  returned  the  gnome  impatiently,  "  and 
that  is  enough.  Begone,  now.  0,  the  birds," 
he  added  with  another  knowing  nod  and  wink, 
"  Leave  it  to  the  birds.  Out  with  you !  The 
rain  is  coming." 

"  But  we'd  like  to  stay  here  until  the  shower 
passes,"  suggested  Pierre. 

"  No  indeed.  I  must  get  to  my  work  and 
command  my  army.  How  do  I  know  that  you 
would  not  make  off  with  a  glowworm  or  a 
mole  ?  Have  you  brought  any  references  ?  " 

The  children  were  forced  to  admit  that  they 
had  not,  so  the  gnome  hustled  them  up  the 
stairs  and  they  climbed  until  they  came  out  into 
the  daylight  of  the  hollow  tree. 

A  flash  of  lightning  greeted  them,  and  they 
laughed  as  they  cuddled  down  into  the  pow- 
dered dead  wood  in  the  depths  of  the  hollow 
and  watched  the  silver  rain  which  at  once  began 
to  fall,  and  listened  to  the  grand  peals  of  thun- 
der that  seemed  to  shake  the  foundations  of  the 
earth. 

"  It's  no  wonder  he  could  feel  the  thunder," 
said  Pierre. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  asked  a  laughing 
voice.  It  sighed  even  as  it  laughed,  like  a 
breeze  passing  through  the  tops  of  the  trees. 

The  children  looked  all  about. 

"  Pierre,  you  made  a  rhyme,"  exclaimed  lona. 


68  WENONAH'S  STOEIES 

" '  You  were  a  poet  and  didn't  know  it '  and  we 
know  by  this  time  that  fairies  love  poetry. 
Something  lovely  is  near  us.  Do  you  suppose  a 
dryad  lives  in  this  tree  ?  " 

The  thunder  seemed  to  rip  the  clouds  apart 
and  the  fast-falling  silver  rain  began  to  be 
lighted  by  an  occasional  sunbeam.  lona  looked 
very  happy  and  excited  and  she  held  Pierre's 
hand  tightly  while  she  said : 

"  Lovely  dryad  of  the  wood, 
Help  us,  if  you'll  be  so  good." 

Instantly,  with  a  swirl  of  green  draperies,  a 
slender,  laughing  girl  stood  before  them.  The 
rain  sent  its  silver  lances  over  her  golden  hair 
and  leaf  green  gown  without  wetting  her  in  the 
least. 

"You  are  making  yourself  very  much  at 
home,"  she  said  with  a  gay  little  ripple  of 
laughter  that  clothed  all  she  said. 

"  We  didn't  know  it  was  your  tree,"  said 
Pierre,  his  hand  going  up  to  his  cap — but  he 
remembered  in  time  and  dropped  the  hand. 
"  We  went  downstairs  to  see  the  Wise  Man  be- 
cause we  are  hunting  for  the  key  to  the  gate  of 
the  fairy  palace,  and  he  thinks  the  birds  know 
more  about  it  than  they  tell. 

"  My  birds,  my  birds,"  sighed  the  dryad. 

"  Of  course  they  are ! "  exclaimed  lona. 
"  You'll  show  us  where  to  go,  won't  you  ?  " 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  69 

"  Secrets,  secrets/'  laughed  the  dryad,  a  very 
mischievous  look  in  her  pretty  eyes. 

"But  what  possible  use  can  a  key  be  to  a 
bird  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"  Ask  them,  ask  them/'  sang  the  dryad. 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  lona,  "  the  birds  think 
we  are  robbers  when  we  wouldn't  rob  them  for 
the  world,  and  yet  if  we  take  the  key  from  them 
they  might  call  it  robbing.  What  shall  we 
do?"  She  clasped  her  hands  together  and  the 
dryad,  mischievous  as  she  was,  and  full  of  fun, 
appeared  to  feel  some  sympathy  with  her.  At 
any  rate  the  green-clad  maiden  leaned  forward, 
and  with  a  hand  as  white  as  mist  touched  one 
of  lona's  golden  curls. 

"Fair  exchange,"  she  sighed,  laughing. 
"  Fair  exchange  is  no  rob  — "  her  voice  died 
away,  and  with  the  voice,  her  leaf-like  gown 
and  fair  face. 

"  I've  heard  that  before  about  fair  exchange," 
said  Pierre.  "lona,  we  will  let  all  the  birds 
know  that  you  will  give  a  curl  for  the  key.  I 
believe  the  dryad  has  helped  us  more  than 


anvone." 


The  rain  ceased  and  the  children  climbed  out 
of  their  hollow,  and  hand  in  hand  walked 
among  the  dripping  trees.  The  sun  burst  forth 
from  the  racing  clouds,  and  the  birds,  flying 
from  their  shelters  among  the  branches,  began 
to  sing. 


70  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  There  are  those  children  again,"  sang  one. 

"  Why  should  you  be  afraid  of  creatures  as 
small  as  we  are  ?  "  sang  another. 

"And  we  love  you  so,  we  love  you  so/'  cried 
lona. 

The  first  bird  heard  this.  He  was  a  wood- 
thrush.  "  Do  you  think  we  can  believe  that  ?  " 
he  asked  of  his  friend,  who  was  a  vireo. 

"  It  is  as  well  to  watch  them,"  said  the  vireo. 
"  I  lost  some  eggs  once." 

"  Listen  to  them,"  said  the  wood-thrush. 
"  They  are  trying  to  sing,  too." 

"  Birds  of  air,  0,  list  to  me, 
I  am  searching  for  a  key 
Golden  as  the  silky  curl 
Growing  on  this  little  girl. 
If  you'll  give  the  key  to  me 
I'll  give  you  the  curl,  you  see  ; 
Curls  are  soft  and  are  the  best 
Lining  for  a  cozy  nest." 

The  children  walked  on  slowly,  singing  their 
song,  and  one  bird  called  to  another  to  listen, 
until  a  flock  flitted  from  tree  to  tree,  following 
them  and  looking  down  with  bright  eyes  at 
lona's  golden  curls. 

At  last  a  larger  bird  joined  the  throng.  As 
soon  as  he  heard  the  children's  song  and  took  a 
good  look  at  lona's  golden  hair  he  flapped  his 
wings  and  made  a  great  outcry.  He  was  a 
magpie  and  a  great  talker  at  all  times,  but  now 
he  shrieked  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  71 

% 

"A  hawk!  A  hawk!  Fly,  Fly!"  and  all 
the  other  birds  fled  away  with  the  speed  of 
arrows. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  the  magpie 
flew  down  to  lona. 

"Go  no  further,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  shone 
as  a  sunbeam  glinted  on  lona's  curls.  "  I  have 
your  key.  Do  you  mean  what  you  said  about 
the  curl?" 

"  0  yes,  Mr.  Magpie,"  cried  the  children. 

"  Then  I  can  bite  it  off  right  now,"  said  the 
magpie,  "and  carry  it  up  to  my  tree  when  I  go 
to  get  the  key,  which  is  woven  into  the  side  of 
my  nest," 

lona  put  her  head  down  obediently,  but 
Pierre  stepped  in  front  of  her. 

"  No,  Mr.  Magpie,"  he  said  firmly.  "  Fair 
exchange  is  no  robbery.  Let  us  see  the  key, 
first." 

The  bird,  seeing  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  try 
to  get  the  curl  and  keep  the  key  too,  flew  away. 
It  was  not  very  long  before  he  returned  with  a 
bit  of  shining  metal  in  his  beak.  It  proved  to 
be  a  beautifully  carved  little  key,  bright  as  a 
sunbeam,  and  lona  held  it  in  both  hands  while 
putting  her  head  down  to  let  the  magpie  choose 
a  curl.  As  she  did  so,  her  acorn  cap  fell  off, 
and  no  cry  of  hawk  ever  made  a  bird  fly  away 
faster  than  that  magpie  flew  from  the  big  little 
girl. 


72  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  0,  what  a  pity  ! "  said  lona,  nearly  crying. 
"  The  birds  will  think  worse  of  us  than  ever." 

"No,"  returned  Pierre,  taking  off  his  own  cap, 
and  standing  beside  her,  "it  is  good  luck  for 
the  magpie,  for  he  will  get  a  big  curl  now,  in- 
stead of  a  little  one.  I  see  him  up  there  now, 
chattering  away  in  the  top  of  that  big  oak." 

Pierre  took  his  knife  out  of  his  pocket  and 
choosing  a  curl  in  the  back  of  lona's  head, 
where  its  loss  would  not  be  much  noticed,  he 
cut  it  off  and  hung  it  over  a  bush,  where  it 
shone  like  gold. 

Then  the  children  hurried  away  and  hid  be- 
hind a  tree  where  they  watched  until  they  saw 
the  magpie  fly  down,  seize  the  curl,  and  fly  off 
swiftly. 

So  then  with  light  hearts  the  children  went 
back  through  the  woods  and  out  again  upon  the 
river  bank. 

"Do  you  remember  the  number  you  chose, 
Pierre?" 

"  Yes.     Do  you  remember  your  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  returned  lona  joyously,  and  they  ran 
up  the  bank  towards  the  orange  flower. 

"  Come,  little  flower-guard,  near  or  far, 
Wapsipinicon,  'rah,  ?rah,  ?rah." 

shouted  Pierre,  but  though  they  hunted  all  over 
the  bush  no  little,  green-clad  fairy  appeared. 
The  children  looked  at  one  another  blankly. 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  73 

What  if  now  that  they  had  the  precious  key, 
the  guard  failed  to  keep  his  promise  ? 

Suddenly  Pierre  laughed.  "It  is  our  fault/' 
he  said,  recalling  the  proud  and  important  look 
of  the  guard.  "He  doesn't  know  that  he  is 
small.  I  remember  now  what  he  told  us,"  so 
Pierre  called, 

"  Come,  brave  flower-guard,  near  or  far, 
Wapsipinicon,  'rah,  'rah,  'rah." 

and  at  once  the  guard  with  his  flashing  eye,  his 
green  uniform,  and  with  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of 
his  sword,  stood  before  them. 

"  Look !  "  cried  lona,  showing  the  key.  "  It 
was  woven  into  the  side  of  a  magpie's  nest.  I 
gave  him  one  of  my  curls  for  it." 

The  guard  seemed  pleased  and  nodded. 
"You  have  done  well,"  he  said,  "and  now  if 
you  remember  your  letter  and  number  we  will 
be  off." 

Wouldn't  it  be  more  convenient  if  we  were 
your  size  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  size?"  asked  the 
guard  frowning. 

"  My  cap  is  gone !  "  cried  lona. 

Pierre  looked  all  about  in  his  pockets.  "  So 
is  mine,"  he  returned,  looking  very  blank. 
"LRose-Petal  gave  us  some  caps  like  yours — " 
he  was  explaining, but  the  guard  interrupted  him. 

"  This  is  not  Rose-Petal's  affair,  it  is  mine,  so 


74  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

don't  ask  any  more  foolish  questions  but  follow 


me." 


They  went  down  to  the  river's  edge,  and 
there  were  the  letter  and  the  number,  dancing 
on  the  ripples  like  little  rafts,  and  the  children 
got  on  board. 

"You  remember  my  directions?"  asked  the 
guard. 

"Perfectly,"  they  replied.  Then  the  guard 
with  the  point  of  his  sword  pushed  the  rafts  off 
from  shore  and  waved  them  adieu. 

They  called  back  their  thanks  to  him  and  be- 
gan to  enjoy  their  ride  very  much.  They  could 
see  the  fish  swimming  about  them,  and  several 
times  they  thought  the  fish  gently  nosed  their 
rafts  along  so  the  current  could  not  bear  them 
down  stream. 

At  last  they  touched  the  opposite  shore  and 
jumping  out  they  looked  about  for  the  pool. 
The  bulrushes  were  so  thick  that  for  some  time 
they  could  not  find  it,  but  at  last  they  saw  an- 
other orange  flower  like  the  first,  flaming  among 
the  green  and  they  hastened  their  steps.  Its 
odor  perfumed  all  the  air. 

"  Do  you  suppose  we  may  pick  this  one  ?  " 
asked  lona,  when  a  deep,  gruff  voice  suddenly 
exclaimed, "  Chug !  Stand  ho !  Who  are  you  ?  " 

Then  the  children  saw  that  they  were  on  the 
edge  of  the  pool  and  on  a  near  rock  sat  the  big- 
gest bullfrog  they  had  ever  seen. 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  75 

"  We  were  hunting  for  you,  Sir  Bullfrog/' 
said  Pierre  politely. 

"  Chug !  chug  !  "  said  the  frog,  and  his  white 
throat  swelled  as  he  said  it. 

Then  Pierre  told  him  their  experiences  and 
that  the  flower-guard  had  promised  them  that 
the  frog  would  take  them  to  the  palace. 

"  Let  me  see  where  the  curl  was  cut  off. 
Chug !  chug !  And  let  me  see  the  key.  Chug  ! 
chug  !  "  returned  the  frog,  without  moving. 

So  lona  bowed  her  head  and  her  curls  fell 
thick  on  either  side  with  a  little  cropped  lock  of 
hair  in  the  middle.  Then  she  took  the  key 
from  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  for  after  finding 
they  had  lost  their  acorn  caps  she  wanted  to  be 
very,  very  careful,  so  had  hid  it  there. 

Then  at  last  the  frog  was  satisfied. 

"  Fetch  your  rafts/7  he  said,  "  and  we  will  be 
off." 

So  the  children  ran  back  to  the  riverside  and 
pulled  their  letter  and  number  out  of  the  water, 
and  placing  them  on  their  heads,  marched  back 
to  the  pool. 

"  Place  the  letter  on  my  back  and  the  num- 
ber on  that,  and  then  get  on  yourselves." 

"Isn't  that  a  very  heavy  load  for  you?" 
asked  lona,  who  believed  in  kindness  to  animals. 

"  Chug  !  No,"  exclaimed  the  frog,  "  I  shall 
probably  forget  you  are  there." 

"  Please  don't,"  said  lona,  because  we  can't 


76  WENONAITS  STORIES 

swim."     She  believed  also  in  kindness  to  chil- 
dren and  she  hoped  the  frog  did. 

But  the  frog  began  chug-chugging  as  if  he 
were  impatient  to  be  gone,  so  the  children 
jumped  aboard  laughing,  and  off  they  went,  the 
frog  making  the  water  foam  with  the  strokes 
of  his  long,  strong  legs. 

The  pool  had  looked  to  them  like  a  circular 
small  pond,  but  the  frog  swam  to  a  narrow 
opening  in  the  tall  rushes,  and  although  these 
nearly  brushed  the  children  off  for  some  way, 
the  water  widened  out  again. 

It  was  a  long  journey.  Three  times  they 
twisted  and  turned  through  narrow  openings, 
but  at  last  they  came  into  a  pretty  stream  that 
flowed  between  flowery,  tree-shaded  banks,  and 
imagine  the  children's  joy  when  they  saw  hun- 
dreds of  the  fragrant  orange-colored  flowers, 
growing  in  profusion. 

"  0,  we  must  be  very  near/'  cried  Pierre. 

"  Chug !  chug !  we  are,"  said  the  frog,  "  and 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  let  the  fishes  take 
you  back.  I  found  I  couldn't  forget  you  were 
there." 

He  swam  up  to  a  landing  of  ivory  with  ivory 
steps  leading  down  to  the  water,  and  who 
should  be  standing  on  the  top  step,  but  Rose- 
Petal  herself. 

"  Welcome,"  she  said  as  the  children  leaped 
joyously  to  the  shore. 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  77 

"  We  can't  thank  you  enough,  dear  Frog," 
said  lona. 

"  Chug ! "  said  the  frog,  and  turning  around 
he  swam  away  again  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

"We  must  tell  you  the  first  thing/'  said 
Pierre,  "  that  we  lost  our  caps  and  we  are  very 
sorry.  We  tried  not  to  be  careless." 

"  You  were  not  careless,"  answered  Rose- 
Petal,  "  I  took  them  after  you  found  the  key." 

This  was  a  great  relief  to  the  children,  and 
guided  by  Rose-Petal  they  walked  through 
avenues  of  flowers  until  they  reached  a  gate 
of  mother-of-pearl.  Beyond  it  they  could  see 
flowers  and  fountains  and  graceful  waving  trees, 
and  could  hear  the  singing  of  birds. 

Rose-Petal  turned  to  them  and  smiled,  and 
pointed  with  her  wand  to  the  golden  lock, 
lona  took  out  the  precious  key  and  with  it  she 
unlocked  the  gate  of  pearl  and  they  walked  in. 
White  doves  flew  about  their  heads  and  lighted 
on  the  children's  heads  and  hands,  and  swans 
sailed  about  in  a  pond  clear  as  emerald. 

The  palace  itself  nowT  rose  before  them  and  it 
was  of  mother-of-pearl,  very  beautiful  in  shape, 
and  soft  looking,  like  a  tinted  cloud. 

The  children  were  so  full  of  wonder  and  hap- 
piness that  they  forgot  even  Rose-Petal.  They 
walked  up  the  flowery  avenue  to  the  ivory  steps 
of  the  palace  and  straight  up  them  as  if  in  a  de- 
lightful dream.  They  entered  and  passed  be- 


78  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

tween  guards  like  the  one  they  already  knew, 
except  that  these  were  dressed  in  white  satin 
and  instead  of  a  sword  each  carried  a  stalk  of 
lilies  of  the  valley. 

Pierre  and  lona  walked  on,  and  at  last  came 
into  the  throne  room.  It  was  more  beautiful 
than  they  had  dreamed;  and  the  pearl  walls 
and  floors  had  a  hundred  pale  tints  of  violet, 
rose  and  gold. 

At  the  end,  on  a  raised  platform,  were  two 
thrones,  and  on  one  sat  the  queen  in  a  lovely 
filmy  robe,  outside  of  which  a  splendid  train  of 
ermine-trimmed  white  satin  trailed  on  the  floor. 
The  king,  too,  was  dressed  in  white  satin  and 
silver  lace,  and  both  king  and  queen  wore 
crowns  of  pearls  with  a  diamond  star  in  the  front. 

Around  them  were  grouped  lovely  fairies. 
The  children  stood  still  and  gazed.  Rose-Petal 
advanced  and  fell  on  one  knee  before  the 
throne. 

"  Your  majesties,  these  are  the  children  who 
found  the  lost  key  to  the  palace  gate." 

"  Let  them  come  near,"  said  the  king,  and 
obeying  a  gesture  from  Rose-Petal,  Pierre  and 
lona  drew  near  to  the  wonderful  beings  they 
had  so  longed  to  see. 

They  imitated  Rose-Petal  and  fell  on  their 
knees,  and  as  the  king  and  queen  each  held  out 
a  hand  they  kissed  them,  and  it  was  like  kissing 
flowers. 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  79 

"  Rise,  dear  children,  and  tell  us  your  adven- 
tures," said  the  queen.  "  The  key  in  not  to 
leave  the  palace,  and  the  children  who  took  it 
away  thought  by  so  doing  that  they  could  come 
to  our  court  at  any  time  they  wished.  Of 
course  they  lost  it  and  we  should  like  to  hear 
how  you  found  it  again." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  king.  "  We  wish  to 
hear.  Speak  on." 

So  the  children  told  their  adventures  from 
the  beginning,  and  the  fairies  standing  about 
the  throne  listened  with  as  much  interest  as  the 
king  and  queen.  Their  names,  besides  Rose- 
Petal,  and  Lily-bud  whom  you  already  know, 
were  Crystal,  Thistle-down,  Feather-white  and 
Dewdrop. 

When  Pierre  and  lona  had  finished  their 
recital  the  king  and  queen  smiled. 

"  We  are  well  pleased,"  said  the  king.  "Will 
you  tell  us,  Pierre,  why  you  chose  One  as  your 
number?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,"  replied  Pierre.  "  It  is 
because  you  would  be  the  first  king  and  queen 
we  had  ever  seen,  and  we  knew  you  were  the 
one  and  only  fairy  king  and  queen." 

"And  you,  lona,"  said  the  queen.  "Why 
did  you  choose  the  letter  Gf  " 

"  Because,  your  majesty,"  replied  lona,  "  you 
were  a  great  and  good  king  and  queen." 

The  royal  pair  smiled  again. 


80  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"Those  were  very  good  reasons,"  said  the 
queen,  "  and  very  pleasant  for  us  to  hear.  Now 
my  maidens  will  give  you  some  refreshment 
before  you  go,  and  then  you  may  take,  each  of 
you,  an  orange  flower.  The  name  of  it  is  Good 
Cheer  and  it  will  not  wither,  but  bloom  forever, 
making  all  around  you  glad  with  its  perfume 
and  brightness." 

"After  that,"  added  the  king,  "we  desire 
that  you  be  returned  safely  to  your  home  in  our 
water  chariot,  and  that  your  Hves  be  always  as 
happy  as  they  are  today." 

Upon  this  the  king  and  queen  again  held  out 
their  hands  and  the  children  kissed  them  and 
then  followed  Rose-Petal  and  her  charming 
sisters  out  of  the  throne  room. 

As  the  children  had  no  wings  the  fairies  very 
politely  refrained  from  using  theirs  and  all 
walked  together  out  into  the  gardens  where 
they  played  games  and  ate  delicious  fruits  and 
little  cakes  made  of  honey  and  nuts,  and  drank 
something  delightful,  they  knew  not  what  it 
was,  from  crystal  cups. 

At  last  the  sun  began  to  sink  into  the  West 
and  the  children's  eyelids  were  ready  to  sink 
too,  from  all  they  had  done  this  wonderful  day. 
They  were  very,  very  happy  as  each  gathered 
an  orange  flower. 

Then  Rose-Petal  led  them  out  past  the 
emerald  pond,  with  its  snowy  swans,  and  the 


THE  GOLDEN  KEY  81 

doves  again  alighted  softly  on  their  heads  and 
arms. 

lona  turned  the  key  in  the  palace  gate,  and 
they  passed  through.  Then  she  locked  it  again. 
The  children  took  a  last  look  at  the  little  golden 
key  and  felt  sorry  for  the  children  who  had  car- 
ried it  away  and  therefore  could  never  go  back 
again. 

They  walked  on  to  the  bank  of  the  river  and 
there  floated  a  charming,  opal  shell,  with  pink 
velvet  cushions,  and  harnessed  to  it  by  rosy 
ribbons  were  four  swans.  Pierre  and  lona 
clapped  their  hands  with  joy  at  the  sight. 

"  Their  majesties'  own  water  chariot/'  said 
Rose-Petal.  "  You  will  have  a  pleasant  journey." 

"But  must  we  say  good-bye  to  you,  dear 
Rose-Petal  ? ' '  asked  lona. 

"  I  will  meet  you  at  the  Wapsipinicon,"  she 
answered  with  a  little  nod,  and  mounting  on 
her  bright  wings  she  disappeared,  into  the  air. 

Pierre  and  lona  stepped  on  board  the  boat 
and  seated  themselves  on  the  soft  cushions 
under  the  opal-colored  canopy  formed  by  the 
curling  ends  of  the  lovely  shell,  and  with  a 
smooth  motion  the  swans  moved  forward,  be- 
tween the  flowery  banks  of  the  stream. 

"  It  is  like  being  a  king  and  queen  ourselves," 
said  Pierre. 

"Yes,"  replied  lona,  holding  her  dear  flower 
close. 


82  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

In  and  out,  through  narrow  ways  and  broad, 
but  all  beautiful,  the  swans  swam  on.  Some- 
times drooping  trees  dipped  their  tassels  in  the 
water,  and  the  air  was  always  sweet. 

At  last  the  children  began  to  see  bulrushes 
and  they  remembered  their  friend,  the  frog. 
Would  he  come  to  meet  them  ? 

Sure  enough,  as  the  stream  narrowed  and  the 
bulrushes  grew  more  thickly,  the  swans  began 
to  move  more  and  more  slowly.  At  last  they 
stopped. 

"  Chug !  chug !  "  said  a  voice.     "  Stand,  ho." 

"Dear  Mr.  Frog,  how  kind  of  you!"  cried 
lona  as  the  frog  came  alongside,  on  his  back  the 
letter  and  number  just  as  they  had  left  them. 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  flowers  ?  "  he  asked 
severely. 

"  The  gift  of  the  king  and  queen,"  replied 
Pierre. 

The  frog  sentry  seemed  satisfied.  The  pres- 
ence of  the  water  chariot  was  proof  of  royal  favor. 

"  Chug !  Get  aboard,"  he  said,  so  Pierre  and 
lona  rose  from  their  stately  pink  velvet  cushions 
and  jumped  over  upon  the  raft. 

"Thank  you,  dear  swans,"  they  cried,  and 
watched  the  graceful  creatures  turn  and  start  to 
swim  back,  drawing  after  them  the  tinted  boat. 

The  frog  began  his  strong  strokes  and  soon 
arrived  at  his  home  pool  on  the  bank  of  which 
stood  Rose-Petal,  poised  on  a  bulrush. 


THE   GOLDEN  KEY  83 

"  Welcome,  little  travellers/'  she  said,  "  now 
to  tlie  river."  And  Pierre  and  lona,  after  bid- 
ding a  grateful  good-bye  to  the  big  frog  who 
chug-chugged  a  farewell  to  them,  jumped  out 
on  shore,  and  picking  up  their  letter  and  num- 
ber, started  for  the  Wapsipinicon. 

"  Rose-Petal,  we  love  you  and  we  thank  you," 
cried  the  children  as  they  boarded  their  rafts  on 
their  own  dear  river. 

Rose-Petal  smiled  and  pushed  off  the  little 
boats  with  her  wand.  Then  she  began  to  sing ; 

"  Gentle  river,  bear  them  lightly, 
Wind  and  wave,  sing  songs  of  cheer ; 
In  their  hearts  may  love  burn  brightly, 
And  protect  them  from  all  fear." 

The  children  stood  and  threw  kisses  and 
waved  their  hands  to  the  good  fairy  as  the  rip- 
ples bore  them  on,  and  her  song  grew  fainter 
and  fainter. 

At  last  they  could  see  her  no  longer.  They 
were  approaching  the  shore,  and  soon  scrambled 
out  on  a  convenient  rock.  The  sun  was  setting 
and  they  hastened  through  the  woods  and 
toward  home  as  fast  as  they  could  go.  Their 
mother  met  them  at  the  door. 

" What  is  that  lovely  fragrance?"  she  asked 
as  they  kissed  her. 

"  These  flowers,"  returned  the  children,  hold- 
ing up  the  orange-colored  blossoms,  which 
looked  like  imprisoned  sunshine. 


84  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

Then  they  told  their  mother  their  adventures 
and  at  last  Pierre  again  held  up  the  fragrant 
flower. 

"The  name  of  it  is  Good  Cheer/'  he  ex- 
plained. 

Their  mother  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  The  fairies  knew  the  best  gift  to  give  you," 
she  said.  "  With  good  cheer  one  needs  little 
else." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  POLAWEE. 

"  •  XON'T  you  know  any  Indian  stories,  We- 

J  nonah  ?  "  asked  Lois  one  day  when  they 

were  all  sitting  together  in  the   tent, 

watching  the  rain  through  the  open  door,  just  as 

Pierre  and  lona  had  done  in   the  hollow  tree. 

Lois  and  Hal  wished  very  much  that  they  could 

have  some  such  experience  in  fairy  land  as  had 

come  to  those  other  children ;  and  when  they 

said  so  the  Indian  girl  smiled. 

"  You  will  find  out,"  she  said,  "that  we  can 
all  call  upon  the  greatest  wonder  worker  of  them 
all  every  day  right  now." 

"  Who  ?     Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  children. 

"  It  is  Love,"  said  Wenonah.  "  Love  settles 
quarrels.  Love  makes  plain  people  beautiful. 
Love  brings  happiness.  Supposing  Love  were 
taken  out  of  the  faces  and  actions  of  your  fa- 
ther and  mother.  What  would  your  lives  be 
like?' 

"0  well,  of  course,  it  couldn't  be,"  said  Hal, 
his  eyes  growing  big  with  such  an  awful  thought. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  makes  the  king  and 
queen  of  Fairyland  send  Rose-Petal  and  Lily-bud 
and  the  others  on  their  errands  of  kindness  ?  " 

85 


86  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"  We  don't  know,"  answered  Lois. 

"  Love  whispers  to  them  that  somebody  is  in 
need,  of  course,"  explained  Wenonah.  "  You 
asked  me  if  I  didn't  know  any  Indian  stories  and 
that  made  me  think  of  the  great  chief  Pola." 

"  Please  tell  us  about  him,"  begged  Hal. 

"  Did  he  have  any  children  ?  "  asked  Lois. 

"  Yes,  a  little  daughter  named  Polawee.  She 
was  the  most  beloved  princess  in  the  world  and 
it  was  all  because  Love  was  her  constant  com- 
panion. If  she  heard  of  any  children  who  were 
sorrowful,  or  hurt,  or  unhappy,  she  went  to  them 
at  once  and  did  not  leave  them  until  they  were 
cheered  and  the  world  again  seemed  a  glad  place 
to  live  in.  Her  father  was  a  great  chief  with  a 
crown  of  feathers,  and  his  face  and  body  deco- 
rated with  bright  paint,  but  he  died  and  was 
forgotten,  while  the  gentle  Polawee  has  never 
been  forgotten,  nor  ever  will  be  in  that  country 
where  they  lived. 

The  people  named  a  river  for  her.  It  was  a 
narrow  stream,  scarcely  more  than  a  creek ;  for 
Polawee  loved  this  river  and  often  led  a  crying 
child  to  look  into  its  clear  depths,  for  the  child 
was  sure  to  laugh  at  such  a  funny  face  as  looked 
up  from  the  sparkling  water.  Then  Polawee 
laughed  and  the  ripples  laughed  and  they  were 
all  happy  together. 

Many  years  afterward  when  a  village  of  white 
people  had  come  to  be  on  this  spot  where  the 


THE  POLAWEE  87 

Princess  Polawee  lived,  a  little  girl  named  Ro- 
wena  used  to  come  and  stand  on  the  bridge  that 
crossed  the  stream.  She  knew  about  the  Indian 
maiden  for  whom  it  had  been  named  —  how 
kind  she  was,  and  how  good  to  everybody. 

As  she  stood  looking  down  into  the  water  one 
day,  two  tears  splashed  into  the  water. 

Rowena  had  red  hair  and  freckles.  She  was 
thin  and  round-shouldered.  The  school  children 
teased  her  and  called  her  Hyena.  So  her  heart 
was  very  sore  and  you  can  imagine  when  she 
leaned  over  the  Polawee  today  what  a  reflection 
she  saw,  with  her  bent  figure,  and  her  sullen, 
plain,  unhappy  face.  How  she  wished  the  In- 
dian princess  were  here  now  to  take  her  part 
and  help  her  to  punish  the  teasing  children. 
She  would  like  to  see  them  all  as  unhappy  as 
she  was. 

"  Oh  Polawee,  Polawee,"  she  exclaimed,  and 
more  tears  splashed  into  the  stream. 

"  Yes.  Doesn't  it  seem  too  bad  ?  "  said  a  pleas- 
ant little  voice.  It  seemed  to  come  from  the 
weeping  willow  growing  beside  the  bridge.  Ro- 
wena started  and  looked  at  the  tree  dipping  its 
drooping  leaves  into  the  water. 

"  If  Polawee  saw  her  river  today  I  think  it 
would  make  her  kind  heart  ache,"  went  on  the 
voice. 

Rowena  stopped  crying  and  looked  all  about. 
Finally  she  perceived  what  she  thought  were  the 


88  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

gauzy  wings  of  a  dragon-fly,  but  as  they  came 
nearer  she  saw  that  it  was  a  lovely  little  fairy 
who  stood  near  her  on  the  railing  of  the  bridge. 

The  fairy  smiled  when  she  saw  that  the  aston- 
ished child  perceived  her.  "What  is  your 
name  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Rowena,"  replied  the  little  girl,  staring  with 
he*r  sad,  tearful  eyes. 

"A  pretty  name,"  said  the  fairy,  and  she 
looked  so  kind  that  Rowena  shook  her  head. 

"But  the  children  call  me  Hyena,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  am  bent  and  homely,  with  red  hair  —  " 

"  Hair  lighted  by  the  sun,"  said  the  fairy. 

"  And  freckles,"  added  Rowena. 

"  The  sun's  golden  kisses,"  said  the  fairy. 

Her  loving  expression  warmed  Rowena's 
heart. 

"Are  you  the  Princess  Polawee?"  she  asked 
in  awe. 

"  No,"  replied  the  fairy,  "  my  name  is  Lily- 
bud  ;  but  I  know  all  about  the  Princess  Polawee 
and  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  crying  because 
her  river  is  so  changed  from  the  crystal  stream 
where  she  brought  children  to  look  at  their  un- 
happy faces,  to  make  them  laugh.  The  princess 
would  scarcely  recognize  her  river  if  she  saw  it 


now." 


"  What  changed  it  ?  "  asked  Rowena. 
"  People  who  didn't  love  it,"  replied  Lily-bud. 
"When  the  village  grew  up   here   the   people 


THE  POLAWEE  89 

didn't  like  the  river.  It  once  rose  and  over- 
flowed its  banks  and  washed  away  their  seeds 
and  they  began  to  treat  it  like  an  enemy.  They 
threw  sticks  and  stones  and  mud  at  it." 

"  As  they  do  at  me,"  said  Rowena.  "  I  know 
that  in  the  old  days  unhappy  children  came  and 
looked  into  the  river  until  they  grew  glad,  so  I 
come  every  day  and  stand  here  and  look  into 
the  water,  but  all  I  see  is  the  girl  they  all  make 
fun  of.  I  never  thought  before  of  pitying  the 
river,"  she  added.  "  I'm  sorry  now  that  I  ever 
threw  mud  and  stones  and  sticks  into  it,  as  I 
have  done  many  times." 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Lily-bud,  holding  out 
her  hand ;  "  I  will  take  you  to  the  land  where 
there  are  only  loving  thoughts." 

"  No,"  replied  Rowena,  the  sullen  look  set- 
tling over  her  face  again,  "  I  will  stay  and  look 
into  the  river,  for  there  I  shall  see  the  truth.  I 
see  why  the  others  despise  me,  and  I  despise 
them  too,"  she  added  bitterly. 

"  But  you  are  not  seeing  the  truth,''  said  Lily- 
bud.  "  If  you  had  come  in  Pola wee's  day  you 
would  have  seen  a  true  picture  of  little  Rowena, 
but  in  this  poor,  muddy  stream,  and  bent  over 
as  you  are  when  you  look  into  it,  there  is  no 
truth  reflected  back." 

Lily-bud  glanced  down  at  the  water.  "Poor 
river  Polawee,"  she  added,  "  I  am  glad  the  prin- 
cess can  not  see  what  wrong  stories  you  are  tell- 


90  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

ing  to  the  children  of  this  day,  and  not  at  all 
your  fault." 

'     She  smiled  again  at  the  little  girl  with  the 
swollen  eyes. 

"  Come  with  me,"  she  said,  "  where  there  are 
no  lies."  Her  expression  was  very  sweet. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  want  me,"  said  Rowena, 
hanging  her  head. 

"Because  you  need  Love,"  returned  Lily-bud, 
"  and  we  will  find  it.  I  am  going  to  give  you  a 
rule  to  remember,  to  use  all  your  life.  It  is 
this :  Look  up  and  to  the  right." 

Rowena  from  habit  bent  over  again  and  gazed 
at  the  twisted,  distorted  image  of  herself  in  the 
muddy  river. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  to  do  ?  "  asked  Lily-bud 
kindly. 

Rowena  lifted  her  head,  looked  up  and  to  the 
right  and  there  she  saw  a  cloud,  tinted  "with  such 
lovely  colors  that  they  held  her  gaze. 

Lily-bud  touched  her  with  her  wand  and  they 
both  floated  gently  up  from  the  bridge  until 
they  rested  on  that  cloud,  which  was  sailing  on 
toward  the  right. 

"  How  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Rowena.  It 
was  so  wonderful  to  be  high  above  all  the  things 
that  had  made  her  unhappy,  and  the  colors  on 
their  cloud,  always  changing  and  each  more 
beautiful  than  the  last,  made  her  heart  beat  fast. 
She  had  always  loved  brightness  and  had  seen 


THE  POLAWEE  91 

so  little.  The  wide  sky  itself  seemed  to  lift  her. 
She  wondered  why  she  had  so  seldom  looked  at 
it. 

As  they  sailed  on  Rowena  began  to  hear  mu- 
sic, as  of  a  chorus  of  children  singing.  How 
charming  it  was !  How  joyful  it  sounded  !  She 
wished  it  might  go  on  forever.  She  looked  all 
about  to  locate  the  sweet  sounds,  but  could  see 
nothing.  The  music  grew  ever  louder  and  fuller, 
so  she  knew  that  they  must  be  approaching  it, 
and  at  last  Rowena  saw  before  her  a  scene  so 
wonderful  that  it  made  her  eyes  wide  with  de- 
light. 

Lily-bud  took  her  hand  and  they  stepped  from 
the  cloud  upon  the  edge  of  an  orchard.  Some 
of  the  trees  bore  orange  blossoms,  some  oranges, 
others  a  variety  of  fruits,  and  on  the  thick  green 
turf  children  were  skipping  hand  in  hand,  in  cir- 
cles, and  singing  as  they  went.  How  fragrant 
the  air  was ;  what  brilliant  plumage  showed  as 
birds  flitted  from  tree  to  tree  urged  by  the  chil- 
dren's songs  to  break  forth  in  their  own  melo- 
dies. 

Rowena  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  at  her 
companion.  "  What,"  she  asked,  "  made  you 
leave  all  this  and  come  to  me  by  the  muddy  Pola- 
wee?" 

"  Love,"  replied  Lily-bud. 

Now  the  singing  children  caught  sight  of  the 
stranger  and  ceased  their  music  and  skipping. 


92  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

There  were  boys  among  them,  and  Rowena  feared 
boys.  She  shrank  and  would  have  hidden  be- 
hind Lily-bud  had  she  not  been  so  small.  Lily- 
bud  saw  her  expression. 

"  Remember  the  rule,"  she  said. 

So  Rowena,  desperately  afraid  she  would  be 
pelted  with  something,  although  there  seemed 
only  fruit  to  throw  there,  looked  up  and  to  the 
right.  Sitting  among  the  branches  of  orange 
blossoms  she  saw  a  white  dove,  and  the  dove, 
seeing  her  look  at  him,  flew  down  to  her  hand, 
and  this  made  Rowena  so  happy  that  she  didn't 
care  what  was  done  to  her  if  only  they  wouldn't 
frighten  this  lovely  white  creature  away. 

"  A  new  child,  a  new  child,"  cried  the  children 
and  they  ran  to  meet  Rowena,  who  put  up  her 
other  hand  to  guard  the  dove,  and  shrank  back. 

"  Come  and  sing,  come  and  sing,"  cried  the 
children.  "The  dove  can  sit  on  your  head." 
And  wonderful  to  relate  the  white  bird  immedi- 
ately flew  up  and  perched  on  Rowena' s  red  locks, 
while  two  children  seized  her  hands  and  led  her 
into  the  circle. 

"  I  don't  know  the  song,"  she  said,  half-cry- 
ing with  surprise  and  happiness. 

"  Yes  you  do.  All  children  know  the  song," 
they  told  her.  "  Just  open  your  mouth  and  it 
will  come  out." 

And  it  did  come  out ;  and  Rowena  sang  and 
skipped  around  the  circle,  feeling  the  dove's  lit- 


THE  POLAWEE  93 

tie  feet  in  her  hair,  and  so  happy  that  her  heart 
swelled  within  her. 

When  they  ceased  and  sat  down  laughing,  to 
rest  on  the  thick  green  grass,  Rowena  found  her- 
self beside  the  boy  next  whom  she  had  been 
skipping.  He  picked  up  a  golden  pear  and  of- 
fered it  to  her. 

"  Is  this  heaven?  "  she  asked  him  as  she  took 
it.  The  dove  had  flown  back  to  his  nest. 

"  Heaven  can  be  anywhere,"  he  answered,  as 
he  picked  up  a  pear  for  himself  and  began  eating 
it. 

"Not  where  I  came  from/'  replied  Rowena 
decidedly. 

"  0  yes/'  said  the  boy,  "  wherever  you  are 
yourself,  you  can  make  it." 

"  That's  easy  to  say/'  retorted  Rowena. 

"  It's  easy  to  do/'  said  the  boy,  taking  a  deep 
bite  of  his  pear.  "You've  only  to  love  every- 
body and  look  up  and  to  the  right/' 

"If  you  saw  the  Polawee  river  you  would 
know  that  it  isn't  very  easy  to  love  everybody/' 
said  Rowena. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  it  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  It  was  a  beautiful,  clear  river  when  it  was 
named  for  the  Indian  Princess,  Polawee,  and  she 
brought  unhappy  children  to  look  into  it  until 
they  stopped  crying  and  were  as  glad  as  she 
was/' 

"  Yes/'  replied  the  boy,  "  but  she  had  her 


94  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

arms  around  them  while  they  looked.  It  was 
her  love  that  helped  them." 

Rowena  turned  her  head  away  and  thought. 
When  she  turned  back  again  she  said,  "  The  Pol- 
awee  is  like  me.  No  one  loves  us.  They  throw 
mud  and  sticks  into  the  river,  just  as  they  do  at 
me.  They  call  us  both  names." 

"  Then/'  said  the  boy,  "  you  and  the  Polawee 
should  be  changed  together." 

"  Yes,"  said  Rowena,  "  but  I  am  not  a  fairy 
like  Lily-bud.  No  one  would  care  what  I  said, 
or  do  anything  for  my  asking." 

"  0  yes,  they  would,"  returned  the  boy  so  de- 
cidedly that  it  made  Rowena  wonder  if  he  might 
possibly  be  right.  "  Love  is  stronger  than  Lily- 
bud  or  any  other  fairy.  Love  is  always  at 
your  side  ready  to  help.  If  you  don't  listen  to 
the  teasing  of  the  other  children,  and  smile 
through  it  and  let  Love  look  through  your  eyes, 
and  you  look  up  and  to  the  right,  you  will  see 
what  will  happen.  Love  will  show  you  how  to 
clean  the  river,  too." 

Rowena  looked  at  her  companion  more  closely 
than  she  had  done  before.  This  was  such 
strange  talk  for  a  boy.  She  saw  that  he  was 
dressed  in  white,  and  for  the  first  time  she  no- 
ticed that  wings  grew  from  his  shoulders.  Then 
it  was  that  she  realized  that  it  was  not  that  all 
these  children  were  as  large  as  she  was,  but  that 
she  was  now  as  small  as  they. 


THE  POLAWEE  95 

"You  know  a  great  deal  for  a  boy,"  she  said. 

"  We  are  taught  a  great  deal,"  he  answered, 
"  because  our  king  and  queen  have  many  errands 
for  us  to  do  when  Love  directs  them." 

Rowena  was  thinking  very  fast.  The  pear 
she  was  eating  was  delicious,  and  it  was  wonder- 
ful to  feel  the  kindness  of  everybody  in  this 
flower-grown,  song-laden  orchard.  The  perfume 
in  the  air  seemed  kindness,  and  the  kindness 
seemed  perfume.  One  moment  she  longed  to 
stay  here  forever,  but  the  next  the  Polawee 
seemed  to  be  calling  her. 

She  had  sometimes  seen  pigs  allowed  to  walk 
into  the  shallow  river  and  stir  up  the  mud  with 
their  long  snouts.  If  it  were  true  that  Love 
was  always  with  her,  as  willing  to  direct  her  as 
to  guide  the  king  and  queen  of  fairyland,  then 
surely  she  should  not  mind  what  other  children 
could  do  to  her.  She  began  to  long  to  try  her 
powers.  Here  in  this  garden  of  delight  it  seemed 
very  easy  to  look  up  and  Rowena  tried  not  to 
remember  how  different  were  the  dust  and  un- 
kindness  of  the  earth. 

She  wondered  where  she  could  find  Lily-bud, 
and  at  once  the  fairy  stood  before  her. 

"  Are  you  happy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  but  I  must  go  home,"  replied  Rowena, 
and  Lily-bud  saw  the  new  hopefulness  in  her 
face. 

"  Love  has  given  you  an  errand/'  she  said. 


96  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"Yes,  yes/'  replied  Rowena,  "if  I  can  only 
have  courage ! " 

"Love  is  courage,"  replied  Lily-bud. 

She  waved  her  wand,  and  on  the  edge  of  the 
orchard  there  appeared  again  a  rose-tinted  cloud. 
Rowena  could  see  it  gleaming  through  the 
branches.  She  looked  about  on  the  happy, 
winged  children  who  began  to  rise  and  fly  about 
among  the  trees.  They  accompanied  the  visitor 
as  far  as  to  the  edge  of  the  cloud.  Could  it  be 
Rowena  who  was  thus  pursued  with  affectionate 
calls  and  good  wishes  and  loving  looks  ? 

She  waved  kisses  back  to  them  as  she  and 
Lily-bud  floated  away  on  their  rosy  couch,  down, 
and  down,  and  down. 

The  voices  grew  fainter  and  fainter  until  they 
died  away.  Rowena  was  so  deep  in  her  thoughts 
that  she  did  not  notice  when  the  cloud  itself  fi- 
nally faded  into  mist  and  disappeared. 

A  little  red-haired  girl  in  a  torn  calico  dress 
stood  on  the  bridge  over  the  Polawee.  She  felt 
a  light  kiss  on  the  cheek  and  looked  up  and 
about  for  Lily-bud ;  but  she  saw  nothing  but  the 
weeping  willow  tree,  dipping  its  tassels  in  the 
dark  river.  Her  eyes  rested  on  the  empty  tin 
cans  and  ashes  lying  in  the  edge  of  the  water. 

Rowena's  first  thought  was  that  she  should  be 
very  late  home,  and  that  she  would  be  punished 
by  the  aunt  with  whom  she  lived. 

Her  hair  was  hanging  down  over  her  eyes. 


THE  POLAWEE  97 

She  had  never  cared  if  it  did.  It  shut  out  some 
of  the  things  she  shrank  from  seeing. 

She  hurried  off  the  bridge.  She  had  been 
away  such  a  long  time.  How  could  she  explain 
it  ?  Who  would  believe  her  ? 

One  thing  Rowena  did  not  know.  There  is  no 
time  in  Fairyland.  Just  as  one  can  in  one's 
sleep  go  through  hours  of  adventure  and  awaken 
to  find  that  it  all  happened  in  one  minute,  so  can 
a  delightful  visit  to  Fairyland  take  place  between 
two  whisks  of  a  cow's  tail. 

The  fact  is  that  when  Rowena  entered  the 
kitchen,  expecting  a  rebuke,  her  aunt  turned 
from  the  stove  and  said : 

"  It's  time  to  set  the  table.  How  untidy  you 
look,  child.  You've  torn  your  dress  again, 
too." 

"  Yes,  I'll  mend  it,  Aunt,"  replied  Rowena. 

Her  aunt  stared.  Such  a  pleasant  answer 
amazed  her,  and  if  she  was  amazed,  Rowena  was 
much  more  so  !  She  had  been  gone,  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  many  hours,  and  here  she  was  at  home  in 
plenty  of  time  to  set  the  table  for  supper ! 

"  Love  must  have  done  that,  somehow,"  she 
said  to  herself,  and  while  she  worked  she  thought 
of  the  boy  in  the  shining  white  clothes  with 
whom  she  had  eaten  the  pear,  and  she  felt  again 
the  little  pink  feet  of  the  dove  on  her  hand,  and 
heard  its  gentle  coo. 

Her  poor,  torn  dress  and    her   snarly   hair 


98  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

seemed  dreadful  to  her.  She  must  try  to  look 
more  like  those  children  in  the  orchard. 

She  sat  up  that  night  and  worked  hard  to 
mend  her  dress  and  she  asked  for  buttons  to  put 
on  the  places  where  they  were  missing.  Her 
aunt  put  her  hand  on  the  child's  head.  She 
feared  she  might  be  ill,  she  was  so  unlike  herself, 
and  Rowena,  looking  up  and  to  the  right,  saw 
something  very  like  love  looking  out  of  the  puz- 
zled woman's  eyes. 

The  next  morning  when  Rowena  was  ready 
for  school  her  aunt  looked  at  her  again  in  sur- 
prise. Her  hair  had  been  brushed  until  it 
shone.  She  looked  pink  and  clean  all  over  from 
scrubbing  with  soap  and  water.  Her  old  dress 
was  whole  and  properly  buttoned  down  the 
back. 

"  My  hair  gets  into  my  eyes,  Aunt,"  said  Ro- 
wena. "  Have  you  a  ribbon  that  I  could  use  to 
hold  it  back?" 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so,"  was  the  reply  and  her  aunt 
brought  a  piece  of  black  ribbon.  Rowena  tied  it 
around  her  red  locks  where  the  dove's  feet  had 
rested. 

"  I  think  I'll  have  to  get  you  a  new  dress,  Ro- 
wena, if  you  are  going  to  be  willing  to  take 
some  care  of  it." 

At  this  the  little  girl  looked  up  so  pleased 
that  her  aunt  thought,  "  She's  not  such  a  bad- 
looking  young  one,  after  all,"  and  again  Ro- 


THE  POLAWEE  99 

wena  saw  something  like  love  looking  out  of  the 
eyes  that  usually  frowned  at  her. 

"  What  has  got  you  started  on  all  this  ?  "  her 
aunt  asked.  Rowena  had  expected  the  question 
and  had  been  wondering  how  she  should  answer 
it.  She  would  have  been  willing  and  glad  to 
tell  her  aunt  all  about  her  wonderful  visit,  but 
how  could  she  expect  to  be  believed  ? 

"  I  was  standing  on  the  bridge,  thinking  of 
the  Princess  Polawee,"  she  answered.  "  I  was 
thinking  how  bad  she  would  feel  over  the  looks 
of  her  river.  Then  I  thought  that  I  looked  as 
untidy  and  muddy  as  the  river  myself,  and  I  be- 
gan to  wish  I  could  clean  us  both  up." 

Her  aunt  was  so  much  surprised  to  hear  this 
that  she  began  to  laugh  and  Rowena  heard  the 
pleasure  in  it. 

"  You  did  well  to  begin  with  yourself,"  she 
replied,  "  for  I'm  thinking  you  will  have  more 
trouble  with  the  river.  The  selectmen  of  the 
village  don't  care  how  shiftless  and  careless  the 
people  are  here.  There  are  laws  enough  if  people 
only  kept  them." 

Rowena  listened  to  her  attentively.  "  Where 
are  those  men  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  the  Town  Hall,  I  suppose,  if  they  ever  at- 
tend to  business,  but  it's  everybody  for  himself 
in  this  village." 

Now  came  the  dreaded  time  of  every  day  to 
Rowena ;  time  to  go  to  school.  Usually  she  pre- 


100  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

pared  an  extra  scowl  and  some  little  clenched 
fists,  ready  to  fall  upon  her  tormentors  as  she 
walked  along,  but  now  it  seemed  a  long,  long 
time  since  yesterday  morning  and  she  trudged 
down  the  road,  saying  to  herself  that  Love  was 
beside  her,  and  every  few  minutes  she  looked  up 
and  to  the  right. 

At  last  she  came  in  sight  of  the  school-yard 
and  the  boys  and  girls  who  had  arrived  early  re- 
cognized her. 

"  Hy  -  Hy  -  Hyena,"  they  shouted. 

Rowena  thought  of  the  children  in  shining 
white  clothes,  and  the  dove's  little  feet  on  her 
hair,  and  the  way  its  wings  had  fanned  her  cheek. 
She  remembered  the  songs  that  she  had  known 
and  sung. 

"  Hy  -  ena, 
Nobody  meaner," 

shouted  the  boys  and  girls. 

The  prickly  heat  she  knew  began  to  course 
down  Rowena's  back,  but  she  looked  up  and  to 
the  right  and  smiled  a  little  as  she  walked  on. 

"  Hush  up,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  children  as 
she  drew  nearer.  "  That  isn't  Rowena." 

Rowena  heard  this  and  moved  on,  smiling  at 
the  children  without  a  word.  Then  she  entered 
the  school  house.  As  she  passed  among  them 
they,  too,  were  still,  staring  at  her  fair  forehead 
and  smiling  lips. 


THE  POLAWEE  101 

Many  times  during  the  morning  the  other 
children  glanced  over  at  Rowena.  What  had 
happened  to  her  ? 

Some  of  the  rougher  boys  were  unwilling  to 
lose  the  fun  of  teasing  the  fiery-tempered  little 
girl,  and  at.  recess  time  they  tried  it  again. 
Whenever  she  could  not  get  out  of  their  way 
she  looked  up  and  to  the  right  and  was  sure  to 
see  a  lovely  cloud  or  a  bird,  or  a  sunbeam  — 
something  to  remind  her  of  the  boy  who  had 
told  her  it  was  easy  to  win  in  a  fight  like  this 
if  one  only  remembered  the  rules,  and  she  seemed 
to  the  boys  so  different  from  their  usual  victim 
that  they  didn't  get  much  satisfaction  out  of 
it 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  about  the 
change  in  Rowena  and  one  of  the  older  girls  at 
last  spoke  to  her  about  it. 

"  What  has  made  you  so  changed,  Rowena?  " 
she  asked. 

"  The  Princess  Polawee,"  was  the  surprising 
reply. 

The  big  girl  told  the  others  and  they  all 
laughed  as  if  this  were  a  great  joke,  but  Rowena 
behaved  so  quietly  and  looked  up  so  happily, 
and  her  forehead,  always  before  protected  by 
the  tangled  hair,  was  so  white  and  smooth,  that 
she  seemed  altogether  like  a  new  being,  and 
stories  began  to  go  about  the  village  that  Ro- 
wena had  really  talked  with  the  spirit  of  the 


102  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

beloved  Indian  maiden,  and  that  the  Princess 
had  transformed  her. 

The  effect  of  these  rumors  was  that  there  was 
no  more  teasing  of  Rowena.  In  fact  the  chil- 
dren stood  a  little  in  awe  of  her,  and  all  the  time 
Rowena  was  holding  in  her  heart  the  mission 
which  had  made  her  willing  to  leave  the  fairy 
orchard. 

One  day,  without  telling  anyone  what  she  in- 
tended to  do,  she  made  her  way  to  the  Town 
Hall.  The  men  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  that 
the  village  was  kept  in  order,  and  who,  Rowena's 
aunt  said,  never  did  it,  were  sitting  around  a 
long  table  trying  to  decide  whether  cows  should 
be  allowed  to  feed  in  the  public  park. 

Rowena,  in  her  Sunday  frock,  walked  in  upon 
them,  and  the  men  took  their  pipes  from  their 
mouths  and  stared  in  surprise  to  see  a  little  girl 
come  in  and  disturb  their  conference. 

She  looked  from  one  to  another  with  eager, 
bright  eyes. 

"  Are  you  the  selected  men  ?  "  she  asked. 

Some  of  them  laughed  and  some  of  them 
frowned.  One  of  the  frowning  ones  said,  "  Run 
away,  child.  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  in 
here  and  disturbing  us  when  we  are  attending  to 
the  business  of  the  village  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  do,"  replied  Rowena 
earnestly.  "  I  heard  that  you  never  did  attend 
to  it." 


THE  POLAWEE  103 

At  this  the  laughers  laughed  harder  than  ever, 
and  the  frowners  scowled  deeper. 

"  What  does  the  brat  mean  ?  Get  right  out 
of  here/'  said  one  of  the  latter. 

"  Hold  on,  hold  on,"  said  one  of  the  laughers. 
"Let  us  hear  what  the  child  wants.  I  know 
who  she  is.  It's  little  Rowena.  Who  did  you 
want,  child  ?  " 

"  You,"  she  replied.  "  All  of  you.  I  want  the 
selected  men." 

"  Well,  here  we  are,"  returned  the  good  na- 
tured  one.  "  What's  your  business  ?  " 

"  I  come  for  the  Princess  Polawee,  Sir." 

Then  how  all  those  men  stared  and  again 
took  their  pipes  out  of  their  mouths.  Most  of 
them  had  heard  the  story  of  a  child  in  the  vil- 
lage who  had  been  changed  by  the  spirit  of  the 
beloved  Indian  maiden,  and  even  the  frowners 
stopped  frowning  as  they  stared  at  the  little 
girl  with  the  fair  forehead  and  happy,  eager 
eyes. 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,"  said  one  of  them  at 
last.  "  The  Princess  Polawee  died  before  your 
grandmother  was  born." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Kowena,  "  but  her  river  goes 
on,  and  it  is  sad  to  see  it  look  so  changed  since 
her  time.  It  should  be  pure  and  clear  as  it  used 
to  be.  Nobody  seems  to  care  but  the  weeping 
willows,  and  children  can't  see  themselves  in  it 
any  more.  They  think  they  are  ugly  and  bent 


104  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

and  dark,  when  the  river  would  be  so  glad  to 
give  them  back  the  true  picture." 

She  looked  from  one  to  another  of  the  men, 
hunting  for  one  who  seemed  to  understand. 

"  That  is  so/'  replied  one  of  them,  "  the  river 
is  unsightly.  I'm  glad  I  don't  live  near  it.  I 
don't  think  it's  good  for  a  body's  health." 

"  We  can't  waste  time  on  this,"  said  one  of 
the  men  impatiently.  "Run  away,  little  girl, 
and  dream  somewhere  else.  We  have  serious 
business  for  the  village  to  attend  to." 

"  This  is  serious  business^of  the  village,"  re- 
plied Rowena,  and  looking  up  and  to  the  right, 
her  eye  happened  to  catch  that  of  the  man  who 
had  spoken  of  health. 

"  My  aunt  says  there  are  laws.  Aren't  there 
any  laws  about  keeping  things  clean?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  there  are.  But  how  are  you 
going  to  make  people  obey  them  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to,"k replied  Rowena,  seriously, 
"  but  you  will,  because  unless  you  promise  me, 
I'm  going  to  find  a  lawyer." 

The  selectmen  looked  at  one  another. 

"The  young  one  is  right,"  said  one  of  them 
at  last ;  "  but  why  do  you  care  so  much,  Ro- 
wena ?  " 

"  Because  of  the  Princess  Polawee,"  she  re- 
plied. "The  children  used  to  call  me  Hyena 
until  I  learned  about  Love,  and  the  Polawee  has 
been  muddied,  and  bad  stuff  and  cans  thrown  into 


THE  POLAWEE  105 

it  until  it  looks  just  the  way  I  used  to  feel. 
The  Princess  knew  more  about  Love  than  any 
one  who  ever  lived  in  this  village,  and  for  her 
sake  I  am  asking  you,  who  were  chosen  because 
you  were  wise  men,  to  help  the  Polawee  to  be 
clean  and  happy  again." 

There  was  another  silence,  while  the  selectmen 
looked  at  one  another  and  then  at  Rowena  whose 
face  was  all  alight.  Her  eyes  were  lifted  as  if 
she  saw  something  beside  the  ceiling  of  the  ugly 
room,  and  she  did.  She  saw  the  fragrant  or- 
chard and  the  white-clothed  children,  and  heard 
the  joyous  singing. 

At  last  one  man  brought  his  fist  down  on  the 
table. 

"The  youngster  is  right,"  he  said.  "Let  the 
cows  go  to  grass  for  a  while  and  let  us  talk 
about  the  river.  Come  here,  Rowena."  He 
pulled  another  chair  up  to  the  table.  "  Come 
here  and  join  the  committee.  Now  tell  us  your 
ideas  of  how  we  had  better  go  to  work." 

Rowena  looked  very  happy  and  climbed  up  at 
once  into  the  chair. 

"  People  have  to  be  punished  when  they  do 
wrong,"  she  said.  "First  let  everybody  know 
that  the  Polawee  is  going  to  be  made  so  clean 
that  if  the  Princess  came  to  see  herself  in  it  the 
picture  in  the  water  would  look  as  lovely  as  her 
own  face.  Then  put  up  signs  that  anybody  who 
threw  things  into  the  river  would  have  to  pay 


106  WENONAH'S   STORIES 

money  to  you.  No  tin  cans,  no  ashes,  no  pigs, 
no  sticks  —  nothing  must  go  into  the  Pola- 
wee,  —  then,  don't  you  see,"  Rowena  looked 
around  the  table  brightly,  "  don't  you  see  it  will 
wash  itself  clean,  and  people  will  love  to  go  and 
sit  beside  it?" 

"  It  is  a  fact,"  said  one  of  the  selectmen. 
"  The  river  hasn't  been  much  more  than  a  dump 
for  years.  We'll  see  what  can  be  done  about  it." 

Rowena  left  the  Town  Hall  after  some  more 
talk,  and  a  very  happy  little  girl  she  was  when 
she  ran  home  and  told  her  aunt  what  she  had 
done. 

Her  aunt  lifted  up  her  eyes  and  hands  and 
laughed.  "  What  are  we  coming  to,"  she  said, 
"when  the  children  have  to  take  a  hand! 
Well,  you  did  wonders,  Rowena,  to  stir  up  those 
lazy  bones." 

The  next  day  in  the  village  paper  an  article 
appeared  which  astonished  Rowena' s  aunt  and 
all  the  village.  One  of  the  selectmen  was  the 
editor  of  the  village  paper,  and  fortunately  for 
Rowena  it  was  the  one  who  had  looked  the  most 
kindly  at  her  and  had  invited  her  to  sit  up  at  the 
table.  This  is  what  the  paper  said : 

THE    PRINCESS    POLAWEE    IS    IN    OUR   MIDST. 

No  one  who  knows  the  story  of  the  good  In- 
dian Princess  will  be  very  much  surprised  to 
learn  that  she  has  not  been  able  to  rest  in  the 


THE  POLAWEE  107 

happy  hunting  grounds  on  account  of  the  sad 
condition  of  her  beloved  river. 

From  its  high  estate  of  comforter  to  the  sor- 
rowing, the  Polawee  has  become  the  poor,  ugly 
dumping  ground  of  all  the  lazy  folk  in  our  vil- 
lage. The  Princess,  unable  to  bear  any  longer 
the  burden  put  upon  her  dear  stream,  has  spoken 
through  the  lips  of  one  of  our  own  children  and 
pleaded  for  a  restoration  of  its  beauty  and  charm. 

The  village  fathers,  therefore,  have  decided  to 
comply  with  the  wishes  of  the  Indian  Maid  and 
see  that  the  change  is  brought  about.  Hence- 
forth the  Polawee  is  to  be  the  object  of  our  lov- 
ing care  until  it  comes  into  its  own. 

Posters  will  soon  appear  in  convenient  places 
near  the  river  bank,  explaining  that  any  and  all 
persons  who  throw  into  the  water  anything  more 
ugly  than  freshly  gathered  flowers,  will  be  pun- 
ished by  a  fine,  the  money  thus  received  to  go 
toward  further  beautifying  the  Polawee ;  but  we 
hope  that  our  citizens  will  so  sympathize  with 
the  good  Princess,  and  so  realize  what  an  orna- 
ment the  river  should  be  to  the  village,  that  we 
shall  receive  no  money  from  that  source. 

( Signed )     Your  Village  Council. 

When  Rowena's  aunt  read  this  she  wiped  her 
glasses  and  gazed  at  the  child  and  then  read  the 
article  aloud  to  her. 


108  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

Rowena  skipped  all  about  the  room  in  her 
happiness. 

"  What  is  all  this/'  asked  her  aunt,  "  about 
the  Princess  speaking  through  you  ?  " 

"I  think  that  is  a  joke/'  replied  Rowena. 
"  One  of  the  selected  men  was  funny  and  nice." 

When  she  went  to  school  the  next  day  the 
children  had  all  heard  what  was  in  the  newspa- 
per, and  heard  that  it  was  Rowena  who  had  spo- 
ken for  the  princess.  They  whispered  among 
themselves,  and  when  she  appeared  seemed  al- 
most afraid  of  their  changed  playmate,  but  she 
did  not  notice  this  at  all.  The  chief  thing  any 
little  girl  can  do  to  be  happy  is  to  forget  all 
about  herself,  and  Rowena' s  mind  was  so  full  of 
her  hopes  for  the  river  that  she  went  right  up  to 
the  other  children  and  said : 

"  Who  will  join  the  Polawee  Club  ?  " 

«  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  others. 

"Why,"  said  Rowena,  "I  think  it  would  be 
fun  to  get  together  and  make  the  bank  of  the 
river  pretty.  The  girls  can  plant  flowers  and 
the  boys  can  make  benches  and  put  them  in  the 
nicest  places,  and  we  shall  all  be  helping  to  make 
the  Polawee  become  again  a  good  little  clear, 
clean,  lovable  stream." 

The  children  only  stared  at  first,  but  Rowena 
looked  so  eager  and  happy,  and  seemed  so 
changed  in  the  pretty  dress  which  her  aunt  had 
told  her  she  could  now  wear  to  school,  and  since 


THE  POLAWEE  109 

even  their  fathers  had  listened  to  her  and  taken 
her  advice,  they  began  to  think  that  they  might 
do  so  too. 

"All  right/'  said  one  of  the  biggest  girls, 
"I'll  join  the  Polawee  Club." 

"  And  I,  and  I,  and  I,"  chimed  in  others. 
And  to  make  a  long  story  short  Rowena  did  get 
them  all  interested  at  last,  and-  the  fathers  and 
mothers  were  helped  to  keep  the  new  rules 
about  ashes  and  tin  cans  because  their  children 
were  loving  and  helping  the  river. 

Sometimes  when  the  Polawee  Club  were  tired 
and  stopped  to  rest,  they  would  sit  down  on  the 
grass  and  Rowena  would  tell  them  stories. 

The  one  they  liked  best  of  all  was  that  of  a 
little  girl  who  was  sore-hearted  and  lonely.  A 
fairy  named  Lily-bud  appeared  to  her  one  day 
and  took  her  to  the  fairies'  orchard  where  the 
little  girl  found  she  could  sing,  and  the  other 
children  there  were  all  glad  she  had  come. 

She  sat  on  the  grass  with  a  boy  in  shining 
white  clothes  and  ate  delicious  pears  with  him, 
and  he  told  her  of  Love,  greater  than  all  the 
fairies.  He  told  her  that  if  in  all  her  troubles 
she  would  look  up  and  to  the  right  she  would  be 
helped.  He  said  that  the  Princess  Polawee  was 
using  Love  when  she  made  crying  children  look 
into  her  river ;  and  the  little  girl  listened  to  it  all 
and  was  so  comforted  that  she  tried  what  he  had 
told  her  to  do  and  found  that  he  told  the  truth. 


110  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

And  while  the  children  planted  their  flowers 
and  the  boys  made  their  benches  and  Rowena 
told  her  stories,  the  Polawee  was  washing  itself 
clean. 

Love  continued  to  watch  over  it  and  at  last 
the  weeping  willow  saw  the  lovely  grace  of  its 
branches  reflected  clearly  in  the  water.  The 
wisps  of  white  cloud  and  the  birds  flying  over 
saw  themselves  in  its  depths ;  and  whenever  a 
child  in  that  village  had  a  little  heartache  and 
wept  a  little  weep,  one  of  the  Polawees  would 
lead  her  to  the  river  and  make  her  laugh  at  the 
funny  face  looking  up  from  the  crystal  mirror. 

But  Rowena  remembered  the  words  of  the  boy 
in  shining  white : 

"Yes,  but  she  had  her  arms  around  them 
while  they  looked.  It  was  her  love  that  helped 
them." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FAREWELL. 

r 

WHEN  Lois  and  Hal  went  home  from  their 
visits  to  Wenonah  they  would  repeat  her 
stories  as  well  as  they  could  to  their 
father  and  mother,  who  liked  them  very  much. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bobbins  gave  the  Indian  maiden 
many  pleasant  times  in  return  for  her  kind- 
ness to  their  children.  One  day  it  would  be  a 
picnic,  another  day  a  sail,  and  the  more  they  saw 
of  Wenonah  the  better  they  liked  her. 

Mrs.  Bobbins  asked  her  one  day  about  her 
Winter  home  and  how  she  lived ;  and  she  could 
see  that  the  Indian  girl,  on  account  of  her  educa- 
tion, had  many  trials  in  the  manner  of  living  of 
her  own  people.  Mrs.  Bobbins  asked  her  how 
she  would  like  to  go  home  to  Boston  with  them. 

"  I  am  sure/'  she  said,  "  that  those  clever  fin- 
gers of  yours  must  be  able  to  sew  as  well  as 
weave,  and  I  think  you  could  be  very  useful  in 
our  home.  My  children  are  so  fond  of  you  they 
would  be  delighted  I  know,  if  you  would  come." 

Wenonah's  eyes  shone  and  looked  far  away, 
and  she  smiled. 

Ill 


112  WENONAH'S  STORIES 

"That  would  be  happiness,"  she  said,  "but  I 
can  help  my  own  people  and  they  need  me." 

There  came  a  day  when  the  Indians  took  down 
their  tents  because  the  Summer  folk  were  leaving 
and  they  could  not  sell  anything  more.  They 
went  away  and  took  Wenonah  with  them  and 
Lois  and  Hal  had  lumps  in  their  throats  when 
they  bade  the  Indian  girl  good-bye. 

"  Another  Summer,  perhaps,"  she  said  to  com- 
fort them,  and  her  own  eyes  grew  wet,  for  the 
children  had  been  a  great  joy  to  her  in  her  lone- 
liness. 

She  gave  them  each  a  sweet-grass  basket  with 
a  cover  as  a  parting  present,  and  they  put  them 
inside  the  rougher  ones  they  had  made  them- 
selves. That  charming  perfume  would  always 
make  them  think  of  the  bright  plumage,  the 
shining  braids  and  the  flashing  eyes  of  their  new 
friend. 

"  Please  be  thinking  up  stories  all  Winter,  will 
you,  Wenonah  ?  "  asked  Hal. 

She  promised ;  and  at  Christmas-time  the  chil- 
dren sent  her  a  book  of  interesting  tales  to  enter- 
tain her  through  the  long,  cold  Winter  evenings 
as  she  had  entertained  them  through  many  a 
sunny  afternoon. 

They  wrote  her,  also,  of  a  wonderful  Christ- 
mas gift  they  had  received,  themselves.  A  baby 
sister  had  come  to  their  house  and  they  were  try- 
ing to  decide  on  a  name  for  her.  They  wanted 


FAREWELL  113 

to   call    her  Wenonah,  they  wrote,   but   their 
mother  said  her  nose  wasn't  straight  enough ! 

"  But  we  will  tell  her  all  about  you,"  wrote 
Lois,  "  and  we'll  bring  her  with  us  next  Summer. 
She's  such  a  little,  tiny  thing !  Hal  and  I  told 
her  about  Lily-bud  and  Rose-Petal  and  she 
smiled.  We  think  perhaps  she  knows  them. 
We  can  hardly  wait  until  she  grows  big  enough 
to  tell  us.  Good-bye,  Wenonah.  Good-bye." 


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as  a  sequel  to  it.     The  discussion  is  carried  forward  to  a  satisfying  con- 
clusion.   The  minister  has  pondered  over  the  points  brought  out  in  the 
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THINKING  HEAVENWARD 

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THE  LIVING  WAY 

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The  Living  Way  *3  another  of  Mrs.  DeWaters'  unusual  books.  It  is  a 
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GLAD  TIDINGS 

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This  fascinating  story  is  founded  upon  incidents  which  actually  trans- 
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which  great  results  are  brought  about  in  the  lives  of  those  with  whom 
ehe  associates.  The  story  abounds  in  intensely  dramatic  episodes  and 
does  not  contain  a  dull  page. 

A  LIFE  ILLUMINED 

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A  delightful  love  story,  —  clean,  pure  and  inspiring.  It  contrasts  the 
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true  religion. 

HEAVEN 

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The  author  has  written  about  her  subject  hi  a  manner  so  clear  and  force- 
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can  be  read  and  re-read  by  every  class  o*  thinking  reh'gious  people. 

THE  REGENERATION  OF  MARTIN  STONE 

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a  helpful  book. 

THE  STORY  OF  BABY  LIFE 

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Btory  is  delightful.  Read  it  yourself  and  let  all  children  read  it. 


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BOOKS   BY   HIRAM  W.   HAYES 


THE  PRINCESS  SOFIA 

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cleanliness,  purity  and  good  story-telling.  As  is  the  case  with  all  of 
Mr.  Hayes'  works,  the  religious  feature  is  pronounced;  but  because  these 
are  the  "times  which  try  men's  souls"  this  feature  seems  much  less  con- 
spicuous by  comparison,  and  gives  greater  strength  to  "The  Princess 
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THE  MAN  OF  CLAY 

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read,  because  of  its  high  literary  and  moral  standard.  Such  books  as 
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THE  GREAT  PHYSICIAN 

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of  Divine  Love.  One  who  has  expended  his  health  and  energies  in  the 
turmoil  of  business  and  has  vainly  sought  a  remedy  for  his  ills,  is  at  last 
recommended  to  try  the  Great  Physician,  "who  heals  all  our  diseases." 

A  PRINCE  OF  THE  REALM 

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This  beautiful  story  tells  of  the  way  in  which  Divine  Love  meets  every 
human  need.  It  is  the  helpful  experience  of  one  who  found,  after  a  long 
search  for  his  rightful  inheritance,  the  truth  of  the  Master's  words:  "The 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within  you."  , 

THE  PEACEMAKERS 

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A  Tale  of  Love,  dealing  with  the  coming  of  a  world-wide  peace  through 
the  practical  application  of  the  Golden  Rule  and  the  realization  of  the 
One  Mind.  The  story  of  a  Zenda  Kingdom,  which  is  protected  and 
caved  through  the  power  of  Love.  The  first  edition  of  5000  was  ex- 
hausted on  the  day  of  publication. 

BIBLE  STORIES  RETOLD 

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Sixth  edition  revised  and  enlarged. 

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a  spiritual  viewpoint,  they  have  met  a  need  that  has  long  been  felt.  The 
stories  are  written  in  a  manner  to  teach  Children  the  lesson  of  RIGHT 
THINKING  found  in  the  lives  of  the  Bible  characters. 

AN  INTERPRETATION  OF  THE  NINETY-FIRST  PSALM. 
THE  TEN  COMMANDMENTS  AND  THE  BEATITUDES. 

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BOOKS    BY    KATHERINE    M.    YATES 

MARJORIE    AND    THE    DREAM    SERIES 

UP  THE   SUNBEAMS  /     SIX     \  BY  THE  WAYSIDE 

THROUGH   THE   WOODS       I  -JT™  I       ON   THE   WAY   THERE 
AT  THE   DOOR  \BOOKS/  ALONG  THE  TRAIL 

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than  by  children,  since  the  allegories  are  such  as  appeal  to  every  really 
thinking  mind,  and  the  simplicity  of  expression  tends  to  strengthen  the  ap- 
peal. Mrs.  Yates  has  received  hundreds  of  letters  from  little  folks  telling 
how  they  have  applied  the  ideas  and  a  large  number  from  grown  persona 
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A  volume  that  is  worth  your  special  consideration;   its  object  being  to 
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WHAT  THE  PINE  TREE   HEARD.     Price  50  cents.     By  mail  54  cents. 
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A  sweet  little  story,  earnest  in  sentiment  and  full  of  the  confidence  of  a 
"Lover  of  the  Truth."  It  is  one  of  the  most  popular  of  Mrs.  Yates' 
books. 

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out having  to  skip  or  excuse  error. 
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FROM   CELL  TO   SUNLIGHT.     Price   25   cents.     By   mail    27   cents. 
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Another  of  Mrs.  Yates'  inimitable  little  allegories.  It  is  not  new,  having 
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that  of  a  man's  seeming  imprisonment  under  the  supposed  laws  of  mortal 
mind,  and  his  release  through  the  proven  futility  of  these  laws  and  their 
impotence  in  the  face  of  truth  recognized. 

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It  is  practical,  good-natured  and  friendly,  answering  with  definiteness  such 
questions  as  our  friends  often  ask. 

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BOOKS  BY  MARY  HORNIBROOK   CUMMINS 

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RENATUS.     Cloth  binding.     Price  $1.00.     By  mail  $1.12. 

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The  fact  that  thought,  when  at  one  with  divine  power,  can  become  a 
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A  direct  and  powerful  appeal  to  the  spirit  of  youth,  which  lies  hidden 
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BOOKS  BY  ANNIE   L.  FISHER 

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teachings  of  the  Saviour  are  made  of  practical  value  to  his  people. 
SONGS  OF  COMFORT.  Paper  edition,  cover  design  printed  in  three 
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MY  LITTLE  OLD-TIME  GARDEN.  Paper  edition,  25*.  By  mail  27*. 

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This  little  booklet  is  now  in  its  fifth  edition.     Just  the  little  volume  for 
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COMFORTED.    (A  little  poem.)    Paper  edition,  25  cents.    By  mail  27  cents. 

There  are  many  helpful  suggestions  for  those  in  need  of  comfort. 
LITTLE  VERSES  FOR  LITTLE  PEOPLE.  Paper  edition,  25*.  By  mail  27*. 

This  gift  book  is  in  the  A,  B,  C  form  with  twenty-eight  charming  in- 
structive verses.  Attractively  decorated  and  printed  in  colors. 

MISCELLANEOUS 

LOVE  IS  BEST.     BY  AGNESS  GREENE   FOSTER.     Paper  edition,  Imi- 
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A  HERESY  OF  YESTERDAY.  BY  CYRENUS  M.  LANE.  Cloth  binding 
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FAITH.     BY  GERTRUDE  WILSON.     Paper  edition,  25^     By  mail  27^ 

A  simple  yet  very  profound  thesis.  This  book  cannot  help  but  be  of 
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ARE  THE  BIRDS  SINGING?  BY  ANNA  R.  HIGLEY.  25*.  By  mail  27*. 

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